There’s a special kind of silence that follows the words:
“Wait… you’re actually really good at that.”
I’ve heard it more times than I can count.
In classrooms, meetings, content shoots, even after maths tutoring sessions.
From people who, for whatever reason, expected something else.
Maybe they expected just a Love is Blind contestant.
Maybe just a marketing girl.
Maybe just a nice person who drinks green tea and likes a well-organised Asana board.
And then suddenly, they clock the spreadsheets.
Or the late-night quantum rabbit holes.
Or the coaching frameworks.
Or the quiet fire.
What comes next isn’t unkind. It’s usually just quiet surprise.
And I get it.
Some people only see the surface
Being misunderstood has followed me around most of my life.
Not in a tragic way, more in a “huh, that’s interesting” kind of way.
Because when you’re someone who was both a 100m sprinter and a deep thinker, who loves data dashboards and decorating playlists, who teaches maths and also watches documentaries about shipwrecks and black holes for fun…
You don’t always slot in neatly.
People want to “place” you quickly.
And when they can’t, they make their own short-hand version of who you are.
Sometimes, I’ve even let them.
There’s power in being underestimated.
It lets you do your best work quietly.
It gives you room to grow without the pressure of being constantly perceived.
But stepping into the public eye more, especially post-Love Is Blind changed that.
Suddenly, people had ideas about me.
Projections. Opinions. Assumptions.
And with that came an even deeper appreciation for something I once took for granted: the privilege of moving through the world incognito.
When you’re known, your smallest actions can echo louder than you intended.
A post, a comment, a choice… All now sit in a context bigger than you.
So I’ve become more mindful. Not performative. Just aware.
Of the ripple effect we each have.
And the responsibility that comes with visibility.
The responsibility of doing better, for those who for whatever reason look to you.
I don’t always get it right… but ‘A’ for effort right?
Turns out the things I once hid are the things I now honour
As a child, I was told I spoke too much.
That I was opinionated. Hyper. One of the boys.
I had very little care for holding back… I was unapologetically me.
That version of me was sometimes “too much” for quiet rooms.
But I wasn’t trying to be loud. I was just being real.
Curious. Bold. Expressive.
And honestly, I miss that inhibitive freedom sometimes.
Now, I see what people called “too talkative” was really communication.
What they labelled “hyper” was just kinetic curiosity. (If you know, you know)
And what they saw as “opinionated”? That was the beginning of discernment.
So much of adulthood has been about circling back to that younger version of me but with more tools, more context, and more compassion.
I don’t shrink parts of myself anymore to make others comfortable.
I honour them. I integrate them.
Because yes, I still talk. I still ask questions.
I still get excited at random facts and animated when I care.
That’s not a problem. That’s presence.
And now I know that.
Some strengths are quiet on purpose
There are strengths I carry that rarely show up first.
Pattern recognition.
Emotional nuance.
Being able to sense what’s not being said.
Knowing when to speak, and when to wait.
(Ok the latter is still a minor struggle haha… Shrek always said it’s “better out than in”)
Holding complexity without rushing to solve it.
These aren’t skills that headline a CV or go viral on social.
But I’ve been told they’re the kind that holds teams, relationships, and moments together.
And they’re often overlooked… Until they’re needed.
I’ve learned not to force them into the spotlight.
But I’ve also learned to value them deeply, even when they aren’t recognised.
I don’t always notice everything… but when I do, I really notice
I’ll be honest. I’m not always the most aware person in the room.
Sometimes, I miss things others clock easily.
But when something piques my interest?
I can lock into it on multiple levels… Emotionally, analytically, even creatively.
Whether it’s quantum mechanics, a marketing funnel, or understanding someone’s tone shift mid-conversation…
My mind can dive deep quickly.
And that ability, to tune in fully when it matters, is one I’m learning to trust more.
Because at times, I just forget to trust myself.
To remember that the instincts I’ve built through lived experience, study, prayer, trial and error… are valid.
A word for the quietly complex
If you’ve ever felt hard to pin down…
like people only get part of you, or that your gifts don’t always make sense to the room you’re in…
You’re not alone.
You’re not “all over the place”.
You’re multi-dimensional.
You’re not “too much”.
You’re attuned.
You’re not “trying to be different”.
You just are.
There’s grace in knowing who you are, even when the world hasn’t quite caught up yet.
And maybe, just maybe, being misunderstood isn’t a weakness.
It’s a sign that your depth doesn’t fit in a soundbite.
That your magic isn’t always front-facing.
And that… That’s a gift.
More from Nicole
If Nicole’s story resonated with you, why not check out her other articles – feeling the fear and doing it anyway and healing your inner critic.
Happy reading.
