The Mermaids Tale
You were made for the open ocean. Swim boldly, love fiercely, and never let anyone convince you that you're too much.
I spent years making myself smaller.
Quieter voice. Swallowed words. Opinions kept safely locked inside where they couldn't cause "problems." Because someone once told me that speaking up was causing drama. That if I just stayed silent, went along, didn't rock the boat... then I'd keep the peace.
So I folded myself into a fishbowl when I was built for the vastness of the ocean.
And here's what happens when a mermaid tries to live in a fishbowl: you forget how to use your voice. You forget that your words have power. You forget that silence—when it's forced, when it's fearful—isn't peace at all. It's just slow drowning.
You start believing that staying quiet is safer than speaking your truth ...
The Cost of Silence
Let me tell you something I wish someone had told me earlier: when someone tells you to "just let it go" or "don't make this a big deal," what they're really saying is "your feelings are inconvenient to me."
"Don't be so dramatic" = "Your pain makes me uncomfortable." "You're too sensitive" = "I don't want to be accountable for hurting you." "Why do you always have to bring this up?" = "I preferred you when you suffered in silence." "Can't you just keep the peace?" = "Your voice threatens my control."
The right people, the safe people, the ones who deserve you—will never punish you for speaking up. They'll listen. They'll make space for your truth. They'll say, "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me how you feel."
Finding Your Voice in the Depths
I learned the hard way what happens when you silence yourself for too long.
Your boundaries disappear because you never practiced stating them. Your needs go unmet because you never learned to express them. Your truth gets buried so deep you start to forget what it even sounds like. Your instincts—those warning bells that tell you something's wrong—get quieter and quieter until you can barely hear them anymore.
And the people who benefit from your silence? They call it "keeping the peace."
But here's what I know now: Peace built on your silence isn't peace. It's just you holding your breath underwater, hoping you don't drown.
Swimming to Open Water
Leaving the fishbowl—finding your voice again—isn't easy. I won't pretend it is.
It means recognizing that some relationships were only "peaceful" because you never spoke up. And when you finally do? They'll call you the problem.
It means trusting that your voice matters, even when it shakes. Especially when it shakes.
It means understanding that people who truly love you won't be threatened by your truth. They'll welcome it. They'll create space for it. They'll never make you choose between your voice and their love.
You Were Made for the Open Ocean
I write children's books now about being different, about being kind, about being brave enough to be yourself. And one of the most important lessons I teach? Your voice is your power. Use it.
We teach kids to speak up when something's wrong. To tell a trusted adult. To say "stop, I don't like that." To use their words.
But somewhere along the way, many of us women learned to do the opposite. We learned that our words caused trouble. That our voices were "too much." That staying small and quiet was how we stayed safe and loved.
That was a lie.
You weren't designed to live voiceless, constantly swallowing your truth to make someone else comfortable.
You were made for the open ocean—where your voice can echo across the waves, where your truth can flow freely, where speaking up isn't rebellion, it's simply being whole.
A Promise to Yourself
So here's what I want you to know today, sister mermaid:
Stop shrinking. Stop apologizing for having feelings, opinions, and boundaries. Stop letting anyone convince you that your voice is the problem.
Swim boldly into conversations that scare you a little—because that's where your power lives.
Love fiercely, starting with yourself—and that means honoring your own truth, even when it's uncomfortable.
And never, ever let anyone silence you again. Your voice matters. Your truth matters. You matter. The fishbowl promised you safety in exchange for your silence.
But the ocean?
The ocean is calling you to speak.
It's time to find your voice again.
With gratitude and strength, Donna Lewis Stiles
P.S. If you're reading this and thinking, "but what if my voice shakes? What if I say the wrong thing?" Speak anyway. Your voice doesn't have to be perfect to be powerful. It just has to be yours. And the world needs to hear it. 💙
What truth have you been holding back? What would you say if you knew your voice mattered? Share in the comments—your courage might permit someone else to speak up too.
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