Taking Up Space
One of my ongoing lessons in life is about taking up space. I didn’t have my own bedroom for part of my childhood, but the desire for a space of my own was always alive in me. The carpet in our living room became my magical playground. The space under the dining room table became my secret hideout. I learned to create space with what I had. The rest was the birth and expansion of my ability to imagine beyond what was in front of me.
In my waking state, I dreamt of new worlds, new quests, new possibilities. In my physical world, I contemplated running away. I didn’t get far in my planning, but I did pack my backpack with all the stationery, stickers, and markers I believed I would need on such a journey. For a long time, part of me has wanted to escape—to be free, to move how I want, to live without the weight of constraint.
That feeling is still here. And now I choose to listen to her, not as something I need to flee from, but as a compass. A call toward expansion. A reminder that I’m allowed to want more room to breathe, to create, to rest, to be.
Taking up space, for me, is no longer just about the physical. It’s emotional, energetic, and spiritual. Taking up space is about not retreating from my own power when part of me wants to disappear. Taking up space is about not folding into myself just to make someone else more comfortable. It’s about being honest when I feel unsafe, and learning how to meet this feeling with grace, courage and confidence.
For most of my life, I’ve been trained to make room for everyone else. I studied how to read the room, how to take the edge off my voice, how to smile when I’m uncomfortable. I learned how to become smaller in moments when I really needed to expand. I got good at keeping the peace, without considering what this would cost me.
In my 30s, I began to wake up to the truth of what I had been suppressing. I realized I didn’t want to keep abandoning myself just to make things easier for other people. I want to take up space with my truth, even when it’s messy. I want to be seen in my fullness, not just when I’m polished or pleasant. I want to exist without apology. I want to feel what I feel without needing to explain it away.
This shift in my consciousness was forged in the fires of my separation and divorce, a mind-blowing, life-altering cycle I’ve been in for ten years.
Now I’m in my late 40s. I’m paying more attention to what I need in real time. I’m listening to the tightness in my neck, the numbness in my right shoulder, the fire in my belly. I notice how my body tells me when I’m holding back. I used to ignore those signals. Now I sit with them. I ask what they’re trying to show me. And I honor my body in this process.
Taking up space looks like pausing before I respond. It looks like asking myself, What do I actually want to say? and letting that answer come through. It means saying no without guilt. It means saying yes without needing to justify it. It means letting myself change my mind. Taking up space means resting when I’m tired and speaking when I’m ready.
I’m choosing wholeness instead of perfection. I’m giving myself permission to be too much for people who prefer less. I’m letting myself be proud without softening unless softness is my choice. I’m letting myself hurt without rushing through the madness.
Taking up space is me telling the truth when I’d rather stay silent. It’s me sitting in stillness instead of over-explaining. It’s me holding eye contact when I want to look away. It’s me staying present in my body when I want to disconnect. It’s me trusting that I have a right to be here. That I don’t have to fight for the air I breathe.
I take up space with every decision to stay with myself. With every breath I choose not to swallow. With every feeling I let rise instead of bury.
This is how I reclaim myself. This is how I build trust with my body. This is how I take up space. And I’m not giving that up again.
Now, I take up space in my next season.
I move forward with greater trust in who I am and what I carry. I honor my rhythms and needs without apology. I speak clearly, love deeply, rest fully, and allow myself to be seen in all my complexity.
I expand into relationships that reflect the fullness of my growth. These connections are progressive, emotionally intelligent, spiritually aligned, and rooted in mutual respect. I welcome intimacy that feels safe, affirming, and honest. I open to romance that feeds my joy and supports my evolution.
I take up space in how I experience prosperity. I let abundance flow to me through my creativity, my presence, and my commitment to truth. I allow joy to stretch wider inside me. I meet challenges with more ease, grace, and support. I trust that I am resourced in new ways, both seen and unseen.
I take up space by expanding my candor, my transparency, and my authenticity. I surrender to myself and the process of becoming. I choose to be here fully. I choose to live in alignment with my values. I consciously create the life I desire without rushing or pretending. This is the space I claim now with clarity, courage, and love.
Thank you, Spirit. Àṣẹ.