I still go quiet in rooms where I don’t feel safe enough to be fully myself

Dear Delyara, I mean that careful quiet. The one where I still speak, still answer, still smile, still participate, but I can feel my real thoughts being reduced before they leave me. I choose the easier sentence, the softer opinion, the less complicated version of what I feel. I become emotionally smaller to keep the room smoother. I hate that I still do that. Because I’m not confused about it anymore. I know what’s happening while it’s happening. I know I am shrinking. And still, old family dynamics can be so strong that my body moves into self-protection before my principles get a chance to intervene. Then I come home angry and tired and embarrassed that I disappeared a little again. That’s the part people don’t see when they say, “At least it was a nice visit.”