You either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness. —Brené Brown
Hello, my big-hearted friend.
There was a time when I wore a mask so well, even I believed it was my real face.
Polished. Pleasant. Put-together.
I showed up as “capable” and “confident,” the kind of woman who could handle anything thrown her way—at work, in motherhood, in friendships.
One day, a boss commented that I reminded him of a duck—calmly gliding along the surface of the water while paddling like mad underneath.
The comment annoyed me and when he saw my reaction, he back-pedaled, offering a compliment on my latest success.
It took me a few weeks to get over the “absurdity” and sting of his comment before I could reflect on what he was getting at.
Under my carefully constructed mask was a quiet fear I didn’t dare name: I could never stop paddling, because I was always one mistake away from unraveling it all.
That mask wasn’t about deception. It was survival.
If I looked like I had it all together, maybe no one would notice how fragile I sometimes felt on the inside—stretched thin by expectations, crushed by comparison, and silently ashamed of the messier parts of my story.
It’s exhausting, isn’t it?
Keeping up appearances.
Playing it safe.
Hiding the parts of ourselves we fear others will reject.
Afraid to ask for help for fear of appearing weak.
But I’ve learned something in the decades since that I wish I could go back and whisper to that version of myself:
Your imperfections are not the problem—your hiding is.
When we dare to be real—doubts, quirks, wrinkles and all—we give others permission to do the same.
There’s a quiet power in showing up unpolished.
People sense it.
They breathe easier.
They relax in your presence because they see themselves in you.
It’s a risk to be real.
But the reward is connection, freedom, and a life no longer lived behind a barrier.
“The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” —Carl Jung
These words whispered to me on an unremarkable morning this week as I prepared to coach a client considering a major career transition.
They offered a gentle reminder to take off my mask of “certainty” and live unhidden.
By sharing my own story around the uncertainty, self-doubt, and fear that overwhelmed me during each of my career shifts—corporate professional to stay-at-home mom to entrepreneur—she recognized the need to drop her mask of certainty as well.
Two days later, she emailed sharing how relieved her husband and best friends were to hear she had doubts about the career change. Not because they doubted her decision, but because she gave herself permission to ask for help and extra support during the transition.
One friend even confided she was considering her own career change and they agreed to talk more often about their struggles and successes rather than sticking to “easier” topics like trending fashions or the price of gasoline.
Maybe today, your only job is to take one small step toward being seen.
Not the version of you that’s perfect, just the one that’s real.
Give yourself permission to be unmasked…human.
You never know if someone else needs permission to do the same.
What mask are you ready to lay down today?
