Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about mirrors.
Not the one I check before leaving the house, although, let’s be honest, that one gets plenty of attention too.
I mean the human kind.
The people who cross our path and somehow make us feel something. Inspiration. Admiration. Irritation. Resistance. Sometimes even jealousy.
And I’m starting to believe that our strongest reactions to other people often have surprisingly little to do with them.
Sometimes, they are simply showing us something about ourselves.
I stopped making myself smaller
The older I get, the less willing I am to shrink myself to make other people comfortable.
Especially at work.
Not because I think I am better than anyone else.
But because I finally know what I am good at.
I genuinely love my job. I love the pace, the responsibility, the trust, the chaos, the problem-solving and the fact that no two days are ever quite the same.
And I’m very aware that the position I have today is probably one of those rare jobs you experience only once in a lifetime.
My boss happens to have me during my peak years.
And no, I don’t mean my twenties.
I mean now.
At 43.
These are my peak years because I know myself.
I have experience. I see connections faster. I trust my instincts. I make decisions without needing everyone in the room to validate them first.
And perhaps most importantly:
I no longer need everyone to like me.
There is an incredible freedom in that.
Ambition does not have an expiration date
Somewhere along the way, we created this strange idea that careers should follow a timeline.
You start.
You climb.
You reach a certain level.
And eventually you are supposed to settle into whatever you have built.
Why?
Maybe I’ll still be doing what I do now ten years from today.
Maybe at 55 I’ll decide I want something completely different.
Maybe at 60 I’ll start from scratch.
Who decided we stop becoming new versions of ourselves simply because there are more candles on the birthday cake?
I certainly didn’t.
But loving your work has a downside
When work means more to you than simply earning a salary, you inevitably meet people who see it very differently.
For some people, work is work.
It pays the mortgage, the groceries and the holidays.
At 5 PM, the laptop closes.
Whatever problem still exists at 5:01 belongs to tomorrow.
And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
In fact, sometimes I envy it.
There are moments when I think:
God, imagine being able to switch it all off simply because the clock says the working day is over.
No mental checklist.
No idea suddenly popping into your head while brushing your teeth.
No instinct to fix something because you already know how.
Just… done.
It sounds wonderfully peaceful.
But then I ask myself the uncomfortable question:
Would I actually be happy living that way?
And I know the answer.
Probably not.
Because what feels like peace to one person can feel like stagnation to another.
What one person calls a healthy boundary, another experiences as a lack of challenge.
Neither one has to be wrong.
We’re simply wired differently.
And that is where the mirror appears
Because different energies don’t always coexist quietly.
Confidence can inspire one person and irritate another.
Ambition can create admiration, or resistance.
Someone openly enjoying their success can make another person uncomfortable.
And a woman who refuses to make herself smaller can unintentionally confront someone who has spent years doing exactly that.
We tend to call that jealousy.
Sometimes it probably is.
But I think sometimes it is something much more interesting.
Recognition.
Confrontation.
A mirror.
Maybe that person isn’t actually bothered by your confidence.
Maybe your confidence reminds them of everything they don’t yet allow themselves to be.
Maybe your enthusiasm isn’t annoying.
Maybe it reminds them that they haven’t felt enthusiastic about their own life in a very long time.
Maybe your ambition isn’t “too much.”
Maybe watching someone unapologetically want more makes them wonder when they stopped wanting more themselves.
And the interesting thing is:
It works both ways.
Because the person closing their laptop at exactly 5 PM can mirror something back to me too.
Maybe part of me envies their ability to let go.
Maybe their boundaries confront me with the fact that I don’t always have them.
Maybe the person I initially think is less driven has actually mastered something I still need to learn.
That is the uncomfortable beauty of mirrors.
They rarely only reflect one side.
I used to soften myself
I think there was a time when I would have tried to manage all of this.
I would have toned down my enthusiasm.
Made an achievement sound smaller than it was.
Added a joke after saying something confident.
Explained myself.
Softened an opinion.
Made sure nobody could possibly mistake confidence for arrogance.
I don’t do that anymore.
Not because I have become harder.
But because I finally understand how exhausting it is to constantly present the version of yourself that is easiest for everybody else to digest.
I am proud of what I do.
I want to be excellent at it.
I want to be challenged.
I want to earn well doing something I’m good at.
I want to keep learning.
I want to make mistakes.
I want to change my mind.
I want to walk into completely new chapters of my life long after society has decided I should probably be “settled.”
And I no longer think I need to whisper any of that.
Your energy changes your surroundings
Something else has happened since I started living this way.
Different people seem to find me.
People with energy.
People who are curious.
People who still want things.
People who don’t ask why something matters so much to you, because they understand what it feels like to care deeply about something themselves.
I don’t think that is a coincidence.
When you stop apologising for who you are, you stop attracting quite so many situations in which you are expected to apologise.
When you become clearer about yourself, you become clearer about who belongs around you.
And yes, sometimes that means certain people become uncomfortable.
That’s okay.
Their reaction doesn’t automatically mean I am doing something wrong.
But,and this is perhaps the part I’m learning most, their reaction can still teach me something.
Because not every person who triggers me is my enemy.
Not every person who questions me is jealous.
Not every person who lives differently lacks ambition.
Sometimes they are simply holding up a mirror.
And I get to decide whether I look into it.
Maybe that is one of the greatest freedoms I’ve discovered in my forties:
I don’t have to make myself smaller.
But I also don’t have to make someone else smaller in order to stand tall.
There is room for both.
Their life.
My life.
Their definition of success.
Mine.
And perhaps the real goal isn’t to surround ourselves only with people who reflect exactly who we are.
Maybe it is to become secure enough in ourselves that we can look at every reflection, the flattering ones and the uncomfortable ones, and still recognise the person staring back.
Me. Fully. Unapologetically. And still learning.
