I’m writing this in the moments after a conversation that left me feeling a bit dented. I won’t go into the details, but it was one of those times where my positivity felt shut down, like it was an annoyance, and I walked away second-guessing myself. It’s a small example of what dimming your light can feel like – not dramatic in the moment, but unsettling enough to linger.
It made me think about the countless times I’ve experienced this over the years, and how those little moments can add up. That’s what inspired me to write this post.
Every now and then, I notice how my natural positivity seems to land awkwardly with people. A look, an eye roll, a little smirk, or a dismissive comment that leaves me feeling smaller than when I started. These moments might seem trivial, but they stay with me. I’m not talking about one interaction – it’s something I’ve felt many times over many years. A pattern of being told, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that I’m “too much.”
And I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s felt this.
When Positivity Feels Unwelcome
I’ve always been a positive person. I get excited about things, I like to look for the lessons, and try to make something out of every experience. When it feels right, I like to bring positive energy into conversations. But not everyone welcomes that.
Sometimes it’s teasing, sometimes it’s the eye roll or smirk, sometimes it’s silence that feels heavier than words – and little by little, those moments can make you shrink.
I once had an (ex) boyfriend tell me repeatedly that I shouldn’t get so excited about things, because what if they didn’t turn out the way I hoped.
My answer was always simple:
I’ll deal with it IF that happens – but the excitement in the lead-up is real and valuable.
For me, the time spent feeling excited and hopeful far outweighs the possibility of disappointment. And the time spent feeling this way will always be longer than any potential time spent feeling disappointed.
Still, when you hear the message to “tone it down” enough times, it accumulates.
Dimming Your Light
By the time I reached my mid 40s, I was tired. Tired of feeling like my positivity was something that needed to be managed. Tired of holding back parts of myself so I wouldn’t come across as ‘too much.’ Tired of being made to feel like my positivity was an annoyance, and of feeling like I had to justify why I got so excited about simple things.
So I dimmed my light. Not all at once, but little by little. Less sparkle here, less energy there. Eventually my light faded completely. I didn’t lose positivity because I stopped believing in it, I lost it because I had to push it down so often that it felt easier to let it go.
That kind of emotional suppression is draining, and it makes sense to me that it was probably a factor contributing to my burnout. Burnout isn’t only about workload, it’s also about what happens when you don’t feel like you can be your authentic self in the spaces where you spend most of your time.
Losing It, and Finding It Again
Eventually, my positivity wasn’t just dimmed, it was gone. I felt flat, grey, and disconnected. The part of me that used to bubble over with ideas and enthusiasm simply wasn’t there anymore.
It’s taken a lot of work to get it back. Sobriety, therapy, reflection, rebuilding practices that support me, and giving myself permission to feel joy again without apology. My positivity is returning now, and it feels so good to finally feel like myself again – but it’s still fragile. It’s a muscle I’m strengthening, and I know I have to keep working at it. When someone tries to knock it down, I feel it.
I don’t want to stay in that place where positivity is missing. It’s a part of me I fought hard for, through years of challenges where it carried me when little else could. Positivity has always been a core part of my resilience, and I want it back fully. Struggles gave me plenty of negative traits I’ve had to unlearn, but they also gave me positive ones – and I intend to hold onto those.
That’s why protecting it matters so much to me. I’m not trying to pretend everything is perfect, I’m genuinely trying to give my authentic self the space to keep growing stronger.
Protecting My Energy Now
I’m not prepared to lose my light again, and while these moments still sting, I’m practising handling them differently:
- I don’t explain myself. If someone dismisses me, I don’t defend my positivity. A simple “Fair enough” is enough.
- I share my spark where it’s appreciated. My energy belongs with people who welcome it, not with those who bat it away.
- I remind myself quietly. A phrase I use is: “This joy is mine, it doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else.”
- I reframe their reaction. If someone eye-rolls at my excitement, it doesn’t mean I’m too much. It means they’re not in a place to receive it.
- I give myself permission to step back. If someone continues to make me feel small, I give myself full permission to step back or distance myself. Protecting my light sometimes means protecting my space too.
Final Thoughts
If you’ve ever been told, or made to feel that you’re “too much,” you’ll know how quickly that can shift into feeling “not enough.” Not enough to be accepted as you are, not enough to be welcomed without re-shaping yourself to fit.
I’ve lost my positivity once before, and I don’t want to lose it again. It’s one of the few traits that grew out of struggle that I truly value, and it’s worth protecting.
And as I write this, I’ll be honest – I still feel a little dented. Maybe I’m just tired and a little more sensitive than usual today. That’s another thought I could explore – how much sleep affects mental health. We think of sleep in terms of energy, but it also changes how we process interactions. A comment that might barely register on a good night’s rest can feel heavier when you’re running low.
Anyway, whatever the reason – this is one of those moments when I’m hoping someone will say: “you’re not alone”.
So if you’re reading this, and it’s resonating – I want you to hear it from me:
You’re not alone. I know this feeling.
And I need to hear it too.
Join the Conversation