How Introverts Can Take Up Space in Silence: Be Heard Without Being Loud

For a long time, I thought taking up space meant being bold, loud, and confident in a way I just did not know how to be.

Even as a child, I would hide in the quietest corners. Behind the sofa, under a tree, sometimes even in the school library when no one was watching. Back then, it felt like a personal failure that I didn’t want to be where the action was. Like I was missing out on something everyone else seemed to enjoy.

I’d watch other people walk into rooms like they were meant to be there. Like they had a right to be seen. And I’d shrink a little — not because I didn’t want to be seen, but because I didn’t know how to be seen quietly.

I’ve spent years trying to make myself smaller to make others comfortable. Avoiding eye contact so I didn’t seem “too intense.” Apologising when I asked for help. Staying quiet even when I had something valuable to say — because I thought my voice wasn’t enough.

Years ago, I began to define what quiet space means to me and  redefining what it means to take up space—real space, not the absence of presence. And I’ve realised: quiet space is still space.

Understanding Quiet Space
I have come to understand that space isn’t about volume. It’s about presence. When I sit quietly, breathing evenly, grounding my feet, I’m not invisible—I’m intentional. I don’t have to introduce myself loudly to make an impression. My thoughts, my stillness—that’s my signature.

When things get loud, I lose myself. It’s like my thoughts scatter and I can’t hear myself anymore. And maybe that’s what silence really gives me: a way to come home to myself.

I take up space every time I hold a boundary.

Every time I speak gently but clearly.

Every time I say, “This is what I need,” without feeling the urge to justify it.

I’m allowed to take up space just by being who I am — not a version of myself that’s more palatable to louder rooms.

Being seen doesn’t mean being loud. It means being real.

Reframing Being Seen
I used to think “being seen”—making an impact—meant performing. Now I see: confidence doesn’t require applause. It lives in the steady eye contact I sustain, the calm in my voice, the thoughtful words I share when I choose to. I’m not “different”; I simply operate on a frequency others might not hear at first. But that doesn’t mean I’m not received.

And when I show up quietly — with intention, with self-respect, with that inner stillness I’ve always had — people notice. Not because I’m demanding attention, but because there’s a kind of quiet presence that speaks for itself.

My First Small Step
Yesterday, in a meeting, I held my presence. I didn’t dominate. I paused. I answered clearly when asked and let silence follow without filling it. And... people leaned in. They asked follow‑up questions. It felt powerful. I saw they listened.

Transformation Beginning
If you’ve ever felt wrong for your quiet (that one time when it took me too long to answer a question in a meeting), you’re not alone. But imagine believing: my timing isn’t slow or off—it’s deliberate. It is important to understand that you don’t need to match the noise. You can be fully seen just as you are.

So this is me. Reclaiming quiet space. Not asking for permission. Not trying to become someone I’m not.

I take up space by standing in my own truth.

And if you’re like me — tired of shrinking to fit — I hope this gives you permission to take up your own quiet space too.

Bits of this article was taken from my journal and put into AI to enhance it. It highlights when I finally came to terms with my Quiet and the fact that it was ok to take up space.  For me, stillness and silence feel like home.