Years ago, a friend – also a photographer – asked to take my portrait. She did a great job. I loved the photo. But what stayed with me wasn’t just the image itself; it was how confidently she spoke about her work. She talked about that one photo with pride, naming what she loved about it – without asking for approval, without softening her words.
At the time, I felt a little shy listening to her. Part of me admired her confidence. Another part wondered if I could ever speak about my own work that way.
Years later, still working as a photographer, I often found myself doing the opposite. I would deliver a full gallery – sometimes hundreds of carefully edited images – and still write, “I hope you like it.”
It sounds harmless. Polite, even.
But the last time I said it, something clicked. The client didn’t seem particularly impressed. Not because the work wasn’t good – it was. She had more photos than expected, and the quality was there. But my words had already lowered the value before she even opened the gallery.
With the next client, I changed one thing. I simply said how beautiful the photos had turned out – because I genuinely believed that. And she agreed.
That small shift made something clear to me: how much people value your work often depends on how much you value it first. And not just in photography – in how you show up at work, in conversations, in the choices you make without explaining yourself.
This is where many of us get stuck.
No one wants to become “that person” – the one who talks too much about themselves, praises their own work out loud, or fills the room without noticing. So we swing in the opposite direction. We soften our words. We stay quiet. We trust that good work will speak for itself, and we make sure we don’t.
I lived there for a long time.
What I didn’t notice was how often I was treating myself in a way I would never treat anyone else. I wouldn’t speak to a friend like that. I wouldn’t minimize their work. I wouldn’t expect them to apologize for existing.
I have no trouble encouraging others – complimenting a beautiful outfit, a thoughtful meal, a strong performance. But when it comes to myself, I can be ruthless. I zoom in on mistakes, replay them, magnify them, and quietly dismiss everything that went right.
And that voice doesn’t stay internal. It shapes posture, tone, pricing, presence. It teaches people how to treat you.
How can people value you if you don’t?
Humility is important. Earlier this year, during a conducting workshop, an instructor told me, “You did a great job. I like that you’re humble. You’re teachable.” I received that with gratitude.
But years ago, someone else looked at my résumé and said, “You speak well, you dress well, you’re qualified – but I wouldn’t hire you because you sound too unsure of yourself.”
That tension still exists. I’m older now, a little more confident, more aware – but I still struggle. I still see my mistakes under a microscope. I still feel like I’m never quite good enough.
So this isn’t a story about having confidence. It’s about learning how to stop shrinking – quietly, imperfectly – and noticing how that choice shows up everywhere.
Stop apologizing for things that don’t need an apology
Pay attention to how often “sorry” comes out of your mouth. Not because you made a mistake, but because you took space, asked a question, or shared something you worked on.
Most of the time, nothing went wrong. The apology isn’t about behavior; it’s about discomfort with being seen.
Replacing “sorry” with a simple “thank you” isn’t arrogance. It’s a shift in perspective. Instead of “Sorry I’m late,” try “Thank you for waiting.” Instead of apologizing for taking space, acknowledge the time or attention that was given.
Say what you think about your work before asking what others think
When you say “I hope you like it,” you place your work entirely in someone else’s hands. Your own judgment leaves the room.
Try stating one true sentence first – not a performance, not praise, just clarity.
This doesn’t make you louder. It makes you present. And presence, more than enthusiasm, is what people tend to trust.
Notice how differently you speak to yourself
You probably offer others more grace than you realize. You see effort. You name progress. You soften your tone when they doubt themselves.
Now listen to how you talk to yourself when no one is around. The standard is often harsher, sharper, less forgiving.
Valuing yourself doesn’t mean lowering expectations. It means treating yourself with the same fairness.
Let self-respect show up in practical choices
This isn’t about speeches or confidence performances. It shows up quietly – in how you dress, how you price your work, and how quickly you rush to make yourself smaller.
People who value themselves don’t announce it. They align their choices with it. Over time, others adjust.
Respect is taught more by consistency than explanation.
Take up space without performing confidence
You don’t need to become louder or more assertive to stop disappearing. You don’t need a new personality.
You just need to stay in the sentence. Finish the thought. Share the work without ten disclaimers.
Sometimes confidence isn’t something you add. It’s something you stop removing.
I’m not trying to become someone else. I’m trying to stop being unfair to myself.
Valuing yourself isn’t about ego or performance. It’s about self-respect – and how that quiet shift changes the way you work, speak, choose, and show up.
I’m still learning how to stop shrinking. Maybe you are too.
And that learning, little by little, changes everything.
