Reclaiming Yourself: A Homecoming After a Lifetime of Shrinking

A Keynote for the Start of Your Year
by Lady Misty Gebhart

The Wake-Up Moment

There comes a moment when a woman looks at her life and realizes she has been shrinking for so long that her own reflection feels like a stranger. Not intentionally. Not dramatically. But slowly — through swallowed opinions, quiet apologizing, forced smiles, years of softening herself so the world wouldn’t find her too much.

My moment didn’t arrive in some cinematic flash of lightning.
It came quietly, almost embarrassingly, in a way that made me stop mid-sentence.

I caught myself hiding my own work.

I had built journals, tools, books, healing resources — work shaped by the raw truth of surviving trauma, cancer, heartbreak, motherhood, abuse, reinvention. Work I poured my soul into. Work that mattered.
And yet, when someone asked what I did?

“Oh, I just make little journals.”
“Oh, it’s nothing big.”
“Oh… it’s just something I play with.”

I made myself small because I was still living by the old scripts:

Who would listen to the woman with the gray mohawk?
Who would want to hear about cancer twice?
Who would care about the woman who survived more abuse than she ever admitted out loud?
Who would trust a self-love teacher who once believed she was unlovable?

Apparently… more women than I ever imagined.

The truth hit me when I shared a tiny piece of my story with someone — just a few sentences about why I wrote my guided journals — and she started crying. Not out of pity. Out of recognition. Out of relief. Out of the painful joy that happens when someone finally says the thing you’ve been carrying alone.

Her tears weren’t about me.
They were about the part of her that whispered, “Please tell me I’m not the only one.”

And something inside me snapped awake.

I wasn’t embarrassed by my work.
I was afraid of being seen.
I wasn’t unworthy.
I was unpracticed.
I wasn’t silly.
I was still healing the parts of me that had been told to stay invisible.

Once I noticed how small I had made myself, I could no longer unsee it.

So here, at the beginning of 2026, I choose something different:

I refuse to shrink.
I refuse to hide.
I refuse to dim any part of the woman I’ve spent years fighting to become.

I am here — fully, visibly.

And I’m inviting you into the same homecoming.

“Shrinking isn’t safety — it’s self-abandonment.”

Are you ready to reclaim yourself too?

The Cost of Losing Yourself

Reclaiming yourself is not a cute mantra for a vision board.
It is not a trendy New Year slogan or a feel-good affirmation.
It is the profoundly painful work of returning to the woman you were forced to abandon just to survive.

For some women, their pieces were never allowed to fully form.
For others, the pieces formed beautifully — but were chipped away slowly through years of emotional manipulation, control, and expectation.

For me, it was both.

I grew up learning that anger was dangerous, conflict was deadly, and silence was survival. That being agreeable kept me safe. That shrinking my presence minimized the risk. That following the rules kept the peace. Those early lessons shaped the way I loved, trusted, and moved through the world.

By the time I stepped into my first marriage, I already believed I wasn’t worthy of respect or loyalty. So when my husband cheated, lied, gaslit, and criticized my body, I internalized it as confirmation of what I’d been taught all along:
I was too much.
I was not enough.
I should be grateful for whatever scraps I got.

Other relationships weren’t much different.
I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup.
Or clothes that made me feel alive.
Or express opinions freely.
Or be the vibrant woman I knew hid beneath the debris.

I knew how to be who people wanted — I did not know how to be myself.

Emotionally, self-abandonment hollowed me out. My inner voice turned cruel. My confidence evaporated. I believed I was unworthy, unlovable, doomed to disappointment.

Physically, the cost was devastating. My weight soared. My hormones crashed. My binge eating disorder controlled me. I lived in exhaustion, pain, and survival mode. My body eventually broke — cancer came twice.

Spiritually and emotionally, everything dimmed:
My creativity.
My joy.
My hope.
My passion.
My sense of identity.

I became a hermit, leaving my home only for groceries, doctor appointments, or family needs. At my lowest point, I quietly considered ending everything — not because I didn’t love my children, but because I couldn’t imagine ever feeling whole again.

And yet… something inside me refused to die.
A spark.
A whisper.
A stubborn ember that told me my story wasn’t over.

Here’s the truth:

Losing yourself is not metaphorical.
It is psychological.
It is neurological.
It is a trauma response.

People-pleasing, fawning, shapeshifting, always being the strong one, staying agreeable, hyper-independence — these are not personality quirks.
These are survival strategies from childhood that follow us into adulthood long after they’ve stopped protecting us.

Reclaiming yourself matters because your life depends on it.

“You were never broken. You were simply unfinished.”

And the moment a woman stops giving away her pieces, she discovers she was whole all along — she just needed to come home to herself.

Reclaiming Begins

Reclaiming yourself doesn’t begin with a roar.
It begins with a whisper — a tiny decision you make on an ordinary day that changes everything.

My reclamation began with the simplest boundary I had ever set:

I brushed my teeth every single day.

It sounds small. It sounds ridiculous.
But when you’ve lived disconnected from yourself, basic self-care becomes optional. Forgettable. Meaningless.

Brushing my teeth wasn’t about hygiene.
It was about proving I was worth seven minutes of effort.

Then came the mirror.

I would stand there — shaking some days — and try to catch the avalanche of hateful thoughts before they could bury me. I would whisper “I love you” even when it felt like a lie. Especially when it felt like a lie.

Tiny acts of truth.

Tiny interruptions of old beliefs.

Tiny moments of choosing myself.

I began saying “no.”
Softly at first. Then louder.
I stepped away from situations that drained me.
I spent time alone, unraveling the patterns behind my pain.
Self-reflection wasn’t a hobby — it was survival.

My boldest turning point came the day I drew a line around how my children would be treated. My body shook. My voice trembled. I was terrified. But I held the line anyway. And something inside me strengthened.

Boundaries became proof that I could protect myself.

Then came my voice.

The first disagreement I had with my now-husband was a revelation. I fully expected the explosion I’d learned to brace for in past relationships. Instead, he listened. He stayed calm. He stayed present. He stayed loving.

Something healed that day — something old, something deep.

And then… the perfume.

For years, I wasn’t “allowed” to wear makeup, dress how I liked, color my hair, smell pretty, or be expressive.
One day, I walked into Ulta, bought a bottle of Burberry Brit, and wore it like armor.

Perfume became rebellion.
Rebellion became self-recognition.
Self-recognition became presence.
Presence became power.

I took myself on dates.
I let people into my home again.
I allowed myself to create.
To rest.
To feel joy.
To exist as I really am.

I walked. I ran. I lifted weights. I breathed. I journaled. I read. I sat in the sun even in the dead of winter.
I built a life I wanted to live.

All of it — every step — came down to the rule I created:

“Seven minutes is more than five. It’s less than ten. And I can do anything for seven minutes.”

Seven minutes of breath.
Seven minutes of movement.
Seven minutes of reflection.
Seven minutes of truth.
Seven minutes of reclaiming the woman I thought I’d lost.

The moment I realized I wasn’t shrinking anymore came quietly — right here, writing this article.
Fully visible.
Fully present.
Fully unafraid of being seen.

I no longer contort myself to fit anyone’s expectations.

I am here.
I am whole.
And I am not shrinking ever again.

The 3 R’s of Reclaiming Yourself

Reclaiming yourself isn’t a one-time decision.
It’s a daily devotion.

Healing begins with awareness, deepens through action, and becomes permanent through repetition.
These are the three R’s that rebuilt me — and can guide you, too.

1. RECOGNIZE — Naming Where You’ve Given Yourself Away

You cannot reclaim what you cannot name.

Ask yourself:

Where am I saying yes when I feel no?
Where am I exhausted from carrying burdens that aren’t mine?
Where am I shrinking to stay safe?
Where am I abandoning myself to maintain peace?
Where am I afraid to take up space?

Recognition is the moment the fog lifts.
Awareness is the moment your life begins to change.

“Not failure — survival. Now you get to live.”

2. RECLAIM — Taking Back Your Time, Your Voice, Your Worth

Reclaiming feels messy. Terrifying. Exhausting.
Especially when boundaries were once punished.

But every boundary you hold is an act of self-respect.

Reclaiming means:

• Taking back your worth

• Taking back your voice

• Taking back your power

• Taking back your boundaries

• Taking back the woman you were always meant to be

My final exam came the day I chose to leave a relationship I had outgrown. Nothing changed… except me. And I refused to shrink myself back down to fit inside someone else’s comfort.

Reclaiming isn’t clean. It’s holy.

3. REINFORCE — Choosing Yourself Daily

Once you reclaim yourself, you must reinforce it.
Because healing isn’t linear — it loops and spirals and drags you back to old patterns.

Reinforcement is how you stay whole.

Here are the practices that anchor me:

• Journaling — truth over old lies

• Morning sunlight — I am solar-powered

• Movement — even seven minutes

• Gratitude lists — anchor points

• Coffee rituals — presence in a mug

• Creative expression — aliveness

• Self-dates — devotion

• “I Am” statements — rewiring identity

Your habits reinforce your identity.
Your identity shapes your destiny.

PONDER POINT

Where have you been living smaller than you are — and what part of you is asking to come home?

A Love Letter to Your Future Self

If no one has told you lately, let me be the one:

Reclaiming yourself is not rebellion.
It is return.
It is homecoming.
It is remembering who you were before the world asked you to shrink.

Every boundary you hold, every truth you speak, every moment you choose rest over self-punishment — these are stitches in the fabric of your return.

Reclamation isn’t loud.
It isn’t glamorous.
It isn’t for applause.

Reclamation is quiet courage in private places.
Seven minutes of truth.
Seven minutes of breath.
Seven minutes of choosing the woman you promised yourself you’d become.

Make no mistake:

She is coming.
She is rising.
She is already on her way back to you.

“This year isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering the woman you’ve always been — and finally letting her live out loud.”

You deserve space.
You deserve visibility.
You deserve wholeness.
You deserve to come home to yourself every single day.

You are beautiful. You are amazing. You are worthy, and I believe in YOU.
— Lady Misty Gebhart

© Lady Misty’s Creations, LLC 2025 All Rights Reserved