It’s Okay to Take Up Space

I grew up thinking “sorry” was my first name.

Sorry for asking questions.

Sorry for talking too loud.

Sorry for existing in a body that didn’t know how to shrink small enough to be loved.

Somewhere along the way, I learned to apologize before I even spoke.

To cushion my words with self-doubt so no one else had to.

To fold myself in half so I wouldn’t take up too much room at the table.

But here’s what I’m learning now:

It’s okay to take up space.

It’s okay to be quiet.

It’s okay to not have all the answers.

Because what is life, really, if not a bunch of damaged souls stumbling around, trying to find our people and our way?

If no one’s told you yet, let me: existing isn’t a crime. You don’t need permission slips to show up as yourself. You don’t need to edit yourself just to prove you belong.

Be you. Unapologetically.

And if people don’t like it? That’s their prerogative. That’s a them problem, not a you problem.

Now, I know that’s easier said than done. It might even sound like the same tired “Just be happy and thankful” advice. But that’s not what I mean. What I mean is: you are allowed to show up as the most flawed version of yourself. (So long as you’re not breaking laws. Let’s be clear. But I digress.)

Trust me, I’ve spent years apologizing to inanimate objects that never once said “It’s okay.” or “I love you too.” back.

So now? I look for joy in the little moments. I lead with empathy, kindness, and the radical act of just being decent.

Why be anything else? Because the world sucks? Yeah, no shit, the world sucks. People suck.

But all it really takes is finding the ones who make it suck less. And if we’re really lucky, we stumble into someone who makes life suck a whole lot less, and maybe even realize it doesn’t suck at all.

© Dereck Pritchard, 2025. All Rights Reserved.

The Myth of the “Strong One”

There’s a myth that’s been circling for as long as I can remember. If you’re a Top, a Leader, a Bear, or anyone coded as “the strong one,” then you’re never allowed to set that weight down. You’re the one who gives care, never the one who needs it. You’re the steady rock, not the messy human. Like apparently, if I cry at Inside Out 2, some people would snatch my Top card like it’s a parking pass I forgot to validate. Sis, that’s not how labels work. It’s 2025. Crying isn’t weakness, it’s release. Crying has never been a weakness. And if someone really believes emotions cancel out masculinity, we are not shopping for values in the same aisle.

I get it. Most of the time. That’s the burden I allow to be put on me or sometimes even put on myself. But you know, it would be nice if someone would be like “Hey. I got you. You don’t have to be the ‘Strong One’ right now.” Probably. I can’t say I know what that’s like. You’d think after nearly 40 years I’d have experienced that. It’s unfortunately rare and I can't say I’ve had a time when I’ve had that. So what do I then? Well, I have to let the weight down alone and just hope I can still recognize my reflection when I pick it back up. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. That’s the truth of it. 

Here’s the thing. It doesn’t just affect me, whether you’re a actual caretaker, parents, queer men, women, trans and non-binary folks. You should 100% be allowed to ask for that same support. Or dare I say, have someone offer without you pleading for it. 

Don’t get me wrong, 90% of the time. I really love being the strength, the one who holds, the one who makes space for people. I am truly thankful to be that in the lives of others. But, it’d also be nice if someone got me for that other 10% where I need to be the one who falls apart.

What would the world look like if we all gave each other permission to not always be the strong one? It would look powerful, safe, and beautiful. I invite you to check on your parents, your caretakers, your strong friends, and even just each other. Because that, my friends, is where true strength lies. 

© Dereck Pritchard, 2025. All Rights Reserved.

Fears I’ve Overcome, Fears I’m Still Wrestling, and Fears That Make Me Nope Right Out

Fear is a weird roommate. Sometimes it pays rent, sometimes it eats your snacks, and sometimes it just stares at you while you try to live your life. Over the years, I’ve learned which fears I can evict, which ones I’m still negotiating with, and which ones I’m not even opening the door for.

Fears I’ve Overcome

• Turning out like people who’ve hurt me.
  I used to think certain traits were inherited like bad knees. But healing taught me I can break the cycle without breaking myself.

• Thinking I’m unlovable.
  I’m not unlovable. I’m just a limited-edition model. Not everyone can handle the deluxe features. That’s okay.

• Taking my shirt off at the pool.
  This was a big one. Body image has been a whole journey, but I’ve learned my worth isn’t tied to the amount of fabric covering me.

Fears I’m Still Working On

• Flying.
  I had a full-on panic attack on a plane years ago and had to get off. Before that, I hadn’t flown since I was a teenager—so, a 22-year gap. I’ve flown since, but my body still remembers the panic before it remembers the progress.

• Elevators.
  Never been stuck in one, but my brain invented a fake memory to justify avoiding them. I try to push myself now, but if that elevator pauses for more than three seconds, I’m already planning my obituary.

Fears That Make Me Go: “Nope.”

• Being buried alive.
  Who would willingly sign up for that?

• Anything that can kill me in one bite.
  Self-preservation, babe.

• Caves.
  I’ve seen The Descent. That’s a hard pass.

• Catacombs.
  I’ve seen As Above, So Below. Also a hard pass.

Fear doesn’t disappear overnight. Some of it leaves quietly. Some of it takes years to evict. And some? Some you just learn to walk around, give a polite nod, and say, “Not today.”

© Dereck Pritchard, 2025. All Rights Reserved.