Why I Sometimes Feel Like People Are Intimidated by Me



Amy March Little Women 2019


Why I Sometimes Feel Like People Are Intimidated by Me

Have you ever found yourself wondering, "Why do I feel like people are secretly intimidated by me?" Especially in group settings, like with classmates or workmates, where social dynamics are subtle but powerful? If so, you’re not alone. This thought came to me during a group meeting where, despite not saying much, I could feel a certain energy shift. Not negative, but also not warm. Just... different.

That moment spiraled into a flood of thoughts. Was I giving off an energy I didn’t mean to? Was I being too silent? Too assertive in past conversations? Or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t about them at all—it was about me. The truth is, that thought led me down a path of honest self-reflection that I’m learning to embrace more and more: I am strategic when it comes to how I present myself. I don’t always want to be seen as the most capable, the most intelligent, or the most put-together—even if I am those things. Sometimes, I want people to see my growing side, my learning side. I want to be approachable. And that choice comes with consequences, even if subtle ones.

I’ve come to understand that this feeling of being "intimidating" might not be rooted in arrogance or ego, but in an internal strategy that I've adopted to protect my energy and maintain social harmony. I often choose to dial down my confidence not because I lack it, but because I know what it's like when your presence makes others feel small. And that’s never my goal.

But here’s the thing: when you’re a person who’s observant, emotionally intelligent, and strategic in social settings, you’re likely to feel this friction. Because on some level, you’re not just reacting—you’re curating. You're adjusting yourself constantly based on the situation, based on the people in the room. And while that’s a strength, it can also feel like a burden.

The Cost of Playing Small

There are times when I notice myself playing small just to make others comfortable. I might soften my ideas, avoid correcting something incorrect, or hold back a strong opinion. Why? Because I don’t want to come off as too much. I don’t want to disrupt the social harmony. But here’s the truth: when you shrink yourself consistently, you begin to question your worth. Not because it’s gone, but because you’ve hidden it for so long.

It’s a strange contradiction—wanting to be seen, but not too seen. Wanting to shine, but not too brightly. Wanting to lead, but only when it feels safe. That’s where the feeling of being “intimidating” comes in. It’s not necessarily how others see you—it’s the tension between your potential and your presentation.

I saw this in someone else recently—one of my classmates. He’s incredibly intelligent, articulate, and unapologetically confident. He speaks up, he contributes, and people admire him for it. He doesn’t shy away from being seen as capable, and he’s still well-liked. And for a moment, I found myself thinking, “That’s what I’m afraid of becoming.” Not because it's bad—but because it’s vulnerable. It requires you to put yourself fully out there. No hiding. No softening.

That moment helped me understand my earlier thought. It’s not just about how others react to me—it’s about how I manage my own identity in social settings. I want people to see me as someone growing, not someone who’s already ‘arrived.’ And when I feel like I’m holding back, or not sharing my views—especially in meetings where I’m not the leader—it can trigger that internal voice saying, "You’re not doing enough." But in reality, I am participating. I’m just doing it in a way that aligns with my energy.

Here’s something I’m learning to accept: protecting my energy is not a flaw. It’s a form of self-care. I don’t always enjoy meetings. I prefer to speak up when something matters deeply to me or when I know it’ll make a difference. Otherwise, I’m happy to contribute meaningfully and efficiently—then move on. That doesn’t make me less engaged. It makes me intentional.

But yes, this way of being means that I won’t always come across as the most energetic or enthusiastic group member. And that’s okay. Because the people I connect with most deeply are the ones who see beyond surface-level performance. They see me.

Being strategic in social settings comes with its own set of emotional consequences. You’re constantly reading the room, adjusting your behavior, managing perceptions. And that can make you feel misunderstood, or even disconnected. Sometimes, I wonder, “Do they even know the real me?” But then I realize—the real me is the one choosing to be intentional. And that version of me is still authentic.

The beauty of being strategic is that you get to decide what version of yourself to share. Not because you’re being fake—but because you understand that different situations require different energies. And as long as that decision comes from a place of self-awareness—not fear—you’re still being true to yourself.

Processing Helps Me Grow

That’s why processing my emotions like this—through writing, reflection, and conversation—is so important. When I spiral internally, I don’t always reach clarity. But when I sit down and let the thoughts flow, I start to see the patterns. I learn what I truly value, what triggers my discomfort, and what I want to change. It’s in these moments of quiet reflection that I grow the most.

I’ve realized that just because I don’t always share my views loudly doesn’t mean I don’t have something valuable to say. Just because I protect my energy doesn’t mean I’m detached. Just because I choose when and how to shine doesn’t mean I’m afraid of the spotlight.

So how do I find the balance between being authentic and being socially strategic? Between sharing my full self and holding space for others?

Here’s what I’m practicing:

  1. Embracing My Full Self Without Guilt I’m learning that it’s okay to be seen as capable. It doesn’t mean I’m arrogant. It means I’m confident—and that’s something I shouldn’t apologize for.

  2. Reading the Room, But Not Over-Adapting I can still be sensitive to group dynamics without losing myself in them. If I feel like sharing, I share. If I don’t, that’s okay too.

  3. Empowering Instead of Shrinking When I do speak up or take the lead, I try to bring others with me. I make space for their voices, too.

  4. Being Vulnerable When It Matters I don’t have to show up as perfect. Letting others see my growth, my questions, and even my doubts creates connection—not distance.

  5. Setting Boundaries With Love I remind myself that I’m allowed to protect my energy. I don’t need to explain or justify that to anyone.

  6. Remembering That People’s Reactions Are Not Always About Me If someone feels intimidated, that may be about their own journey, not mine. I can’t control their story—I can only write mine.

Strategic people like me might always carry this tension. The desire to be fully ourselves while still managing how we're received. But that’s not a weakness—it’s a superpower. Because it means we’re aware. We’re intentional. And we’re constantly evolving.

I don’t have all the answers. And I’m okay with that. Because I’m growing. And in the end, that’s the version of me I love the most—the one who keeps learning, keeps reflecting, and keeps showing up authentically—even if that means navigating a few uncomfortable feelings along the way.

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