hide and seek

on realizing how often we hide our true selves just to fit in and be liked

I’ve been hiding a lot. From people, from life and even from myself. Afraid to be seen, yet desperate to be noticed. It’s a strange contradiction, craving deep connection, yet pulling away the second someone gets close and is ready to see you.

I’ve spent my life slipping behind rules, norms, expectations, anything that would keep me from showing who I actually am. And sometimes I wonder, when did it all start?

Is it something in my upbringing?
Is it the world we live in, where everything looks perfect and nothing feels real?
Or maybe it was something that happened long ago, something I tried to ignore until it quietly shaped me anyway.

I’ve always believed I was never traumatized, not in the big way. But maybe there were tiny traumas, little cuts that piled up over the years until they slowly ate away at my voice. I’m not writing this to blame anything or anyone. I’m writing to understand, to connect the dots, to find some kind of relief or meaning in it.

Most days, it feels like I’m wearing a mask of someone easy to like. But underneath, I’m busy sabotaging myself, whispering to myself that people wouldn’t like me if they really knew me. I tell myself I’m boring, average, not worth much of anyone’s time. And I know I’m too wrapped up in my own head, maybe shifting my attention outward, toward the world and the people in it, would help. But the world we live in can be loud and uncomfortable, so I often retreat and step back into my safe inner space.

Here’s the part that scares me the most. Over the last years, I learned to suppress my negative emotions just to get through life, just to be easy for others. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more like an instinct. But suppression is a blunt tool, it doesn’t separate joy from sadness. So eventually, even the good feelings got muted. Yes, I can still appear charming, funny, and perfectly fine. But so much of it feels robotic, like I’m watching myself from the outside, like I don’t exist. Somehow, I’ve become capable of being anyone but myself.

Now, what I want is simple. To feel again, and to let go of the fear of showing up as my true self. To show emotion without filtering it through fear. Because how will the people I love know I care if I can’t express it? How will they know they’ve hurt me if I always pretend to be fine? And lastly, how can I say I’m truly living if nothing ever reaches my heart?

with love, Nia