I’ve always been a Disney fan - drawn to the heroines who weren’t afraid to stand up and fight for what they believed in. Mulan. Pocahontas. Women who were strong, brave, and passionate. Even as a kid, they spoke to something deep in me.

Looking back, it makes sense. As an INFJ, I’ve always felt that quiet fire.

“Many INFJs see helping others as their mission in life, and they’re always looking for ways to step in and speak up for what is right.” - INFJ, 16 Personalities

I loved the idea of being a badass heroine, ready to change the world. I wanted to be like them - strong, outspoken, and unafraid to take on the challenges life threw at them.

These characters were my heroes.

But when I watched Encanto recently with my little one, it did something those other stories never had: It made me feel seen - in a way I hadn’t even realised I needed.

I won’t lie, I was in absolute tears by the end of it… even hearing the song Dos Oruguitas sets me off to be honest.

Because it resonated with me on such a deeper level: Not quite a badass heroine fighting to change the world, but someone like me. A quirky, awkward middle sister trying to find her place in a family full of stars. Someone who learns to stand up for herself, fight for her family, and most importantly - accept who she is without needing to be more.

Deep shit.

I grew up as an introvert in a large family full of extroverts. The kind where everyone has a booming laugh, something to say, and enough energy to fill every room they walk into.

And then there was me.

Quiet. Introverted. Thoughtful to a fault. Not shy exactly, but… different. I didn’t feel like I measured up - not because of anything my family ever did (they’re supportive and awesome), but because I didn’t understand my own personality. I only knew that I didn’t quite fit the mould.

I was the one who preferred to read in the corner while everyone else was chatting and laughing. The one who needed time alone to recharge after family gatherings. The one who felt like she was always on the outside looking in.

I always felt like the black sheep.
Like Mirabel.
The only one without a gift.

And the similarities don’t stop there.

I’m the middle of three sisters.

My older sister is a force of nature. A powerhouse. She’s funny, outgoing, the kind of person who commands every room. She is someone I have always looked up to. She reminds me so much of Luisa - strong in every sense.

My younger sister? She’s effortlessly beautiful, charming without trying, and has that natural warmth that makes people gravitate toward her. She is sunshine personified and everything I wish I could be. Definitely an Isabela.

And then… me. The awkward middle sister with glasses. A little weird, a lot sensitive, and forever wondering where I fit in.

So when Mirabel didn’t get a gift, and spent the movie trying to prove her worth - without even realising she already had it - I felt every moment of that.

I felt the frustration of being the one who didn’t quite fit. The one who was always trying to prove herself, even when she didn’t need to. The one who felt like she was letting everyone down simply by being herself.

But what I loved about the portrayal of Mirabel, is that she didn’t have to change anything about herself to be the hero of the story. She didn’t need to be stronger. Or prettier. Louder. Or more anything. She just needed to see her own value, and trust in it.

To recognise the strengths she had, rather than focusing on the ways she doesn’t compare.

To stand up - even when it meant having hard conversations with the people she loved most.

To realise: she was never the problem.

What a powerful message for introverted kids.
What a powerful message for introverted adults, honestly.

It’s a reminder that you don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room to make an impact. That you don’t have to change who you are to be worthy of love and acceptance. That being quiet doesn’t mean being weak or invisible.

It’s a message I wish I’d heard growing up. That who you are, as you are, is already enough.

It’s a lesson I’m still learning.

It’s easy to compare ourselves to those around us - especially in a world that celebrates being bold and extroverted. But comparison only clouds the things we actually bring to the table.

I still wish I could be more outgoing sometimes. Still wish making friends came easier.

But I also know this:
I have quiet confidence.
I have deep empathy.
I have resilience built from years of showing up, even when it’s hard.
I have a unique perspective that allows me to see the world differently.
I have a voice that helps other quiet souls feel seen.

My sisters have their strengths. And I have mine.

Sometimes, your gift is simply being yourself. 💛