Wanting To Be Forgotten

For a long time, I didn’t want to stand out.

I wanted to blend into the background. To disappear into the scenery. I believed that if I stayed unnoticed, no one would see what I was so certain was true about me—that I wasn’t worthy, wasn’t good enough, didn’t belong.

So I learned how to hide in plain sight.

That might sound strange given the profession I chose, but acting became the perfect disguise. I could hide behind characters. Behind scripts. Behind versions of myself that felt safer than the truth. And in that way, I wasn’t so different from anyone else. We all learn to play roles. To adapt. To become what we think is acceptable so questions aren’t asked and attention doesn’t linger too long.

When the risk of being singled out feels dangerous, we camouflage ourselves and hope we’re forgotten.

The Masks We Wear to Avoid Being Seen

Some of us don’t just blend in—we carefully construct a persona.

A version of ourselves that feels more likable. More acceptable. Less risky. We hope that if the persona is convincing enough, the real us will disappear completely.

For me, this created a quiet kind of torment.

I didn’t want to stand out, yet I desperately wanted to be liked. I wanted the version of myself I had created to be noticed and validated, while the real me stayed hidden.

It was an impossible contradiction.
A game I could never win.

The more masks I wore, the more disconnected I became. I had been playing different roles for so long that I no longer knew who I was underneath them all.

When Hiding Becomes Survival

As my mental illness took hold, the desire to disappear grew stronger.

I felt like life was moving forward without me. Like everyone else was advancing while I stayed stuck, running from a darkness that never stopped chasing me. When it caught up, it dragged me backward again.

I didn’t want anyone to see that.

So I hid.

I hid the fear.
I hid the despair.
I hid the exhaustion of pretending I was okay.

My illness told me I was forgettable. That I didn’t matter. That if I were gone, no one would even notice.

And the most dangerous part?
I believed it.

Letting the Light In Changed Everything

Everything shifted the moment I told a trusted friend the truth.

For the first time, I stopped hiding. I let the masks fall away. I let the light in.

What was revealed wasn’t polished or put together. It was broken. Lost. Empty. Afraid.

And instead of being judged or rejected, I was met with compassion.

No one hurt me.
No one shamed me.
No one turned away.

I was met with encouragement, hope, and love.

Standing there in my vulnerability was terrifying—but for the first time in my life, I was fully myself. No roles. No performance. No pretending.

And it felt like relief.

Pretending Is Exhausting and It Keeps Us Sick

Pretending takes work.

It requires constant vigilance. Constant fear of being “found out.” Constant self-monitoring to make sure the mask doesn’t slip.

And the truth is, pretending doesn’t protect us—it slowly erodes us.

It keeps us disconnected.
It keeps us anxious.
It keeps us stuck in survival mode.

For me, pretending kept me sick. And I was getting sicker.

Healing didn’t come from becoming someone else. It came from finally allowing myself to be who I was—without apology.

Learning You Are Enough As You Are

It took time to build self-love. To learn self-respect. To reach a place where I no longer felt the need to hide.

But I made it there.

Today, I know this: whatever my best self looks like in any given moment is enough. If I fall or make a mistake, I can repair, learn, and try again—as long as I stay true to myself.

I no longer want to be forgotten.

I want to be of service.
I want to help.
I want to share my story.

Not for approval. Not for validation. But because it’s my truth—and there is nothing to be ashamed of in that.

I own my story.
I own my truth.
And when I walk in that honesty, I know I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

That is what I want to be remembered for.

You Were Never Meant to Disappear

If you’ve spent your life trying to stay hidden, hear this:

You don’t deserve to be forgotten.
You don’t need to erase yourself to be accepted.
You don’t need a mask to be worthy.

The world doesn’t need a more palatable version of you.
It needs you.

Your real voice.
Your real heart.
Your real presence.

That is who we remember.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: In what ways do you hide or minimize yourself in your daily life?
L: What part of you feels “unacceptable,” and where did that belief come from?
A: What would it look like to remove one mask and show up more honestly?
Y: If you stopped trying to be forgotten, who could you allow yourself to become?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever tried to disappear to protect yourself—and what helped you start showing up again?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s hiding because they don’t feel worthy of being seen, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

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6 thoughts on “Wanting To Be Forgotten”

  1. I’m so grateful to you, and your friend, that you’re still here. You’re brave. Astonishingly so, and I’ve been learning so much from you about myself.

    Thank you for everything you do, Carrie. I have tons of love for you.

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  2. “When my mental illness had taken over, and my disease was the only voice I heard, I felt like I was fading away in the background. I felt like life was going on around me, but was leaving me behind. I never felt like I was moving forward, I always felt like I was running away from the darkness that was chasing me. And when it caught up to me, it would pull me back. I certainly didn’t want anyone to see that, so hiding became my way to conceal that part of myself from you, from anyone who might judge it, might not understand it, or might hurt me because of it. My disease told me I should be forgotten, that I wasn’t worth remembering, and that if I was gone, no one would even notice.”

    This is making me cry. I am feeling this so hard today. I just revisited some things the void inside my head whispered because someone I thought would never in a million years just recently reached out to me. They never sent a message but made their presence rather clear in a friend request. It’s shaking me to the core.

    “Pretending was a lot of work. Pretending meant I was constantly in fear of being found out as a fraud because I wasn’t being true to myself. Pretending kept me sick. And I was getting sicker.”

    I’m really good at pretend.

    “Share who I am. My story. And I never worry what the reaction will be, because it’s my truth, and there is nothing to be ashamed of. I own my story, I own my truth, and I know that when I walk in that place I am exactly where I am supposed to be.”

    I’m afraid to let my story out because it will hurt so many people I deeply care about. I don’t want to hurt them by telling them truths about my story as they may feel like it doesn’t align with their story. Our storeis are subjective to the perception glasses we have on. I’m just afraid, a lot of the people in my life will disappear because of my story and I am so afraid of that. I don’t know how to cope right now.

    As usual Carrie, thank you for your blog posts. I will keep slaying and get through this thing.

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    1. I struggled with this at the beginning of my journey, and worked with someone to find the right answers. Ultimately for me what was important was to share my truth, but not at the expense of others. There were things, with certain people, where I had to share more of what I felt and how that affected me, more than the details of the events themselves because it would have hurt the other individuals involved. I have a situation today that has come to light, about my past, but have chosen to deal with it on my side, with the help of therapy, rather than share it with a few people who also know the individual involved. My decision to not share it with them came down to this, it wouldn’t be helping them at all to know this information, they already know this person isn’t a good person, and it will only hurt them to find out what this person did to me, nothing good would come out of me telling them. So, it’s my responsibility to work through it and find some closure.

      It is important to be honest about who we are and where we’ve come from, but we also have to take into consideration who we’re sharing with and where we’re doing that. If it’s totally self-motivated, or meant to shock, or to gain sympathy, that’s not a good reason to share, but if it’s meant to heal, find closure, possibly shed some light on past events, then yes, it is OK, but always with compassion, sometimes people aren’t ready, or want to hear the truth.

      We all do have our own perceptions, but we know what the truth is for us, and if we don’t, we can do the work to find out the truth from fiction. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but the facts are the facts, and if keeping yours hidden is stopping you from growing, from getting better, or is keeping you sick, you need to share them.

      I would definitely suggest talking with a counselor, therapist, pastor, priest, etc, someone you trust, who may help you sort out how to best share, I certainly didn’t do it alone, and was grateful for the guidance because in the end, it wasn’t always easy for people to hear, but a lot of good came from it over time.

      SLAY on N!

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      1. Thanks Carrie, I have been sharing things with a therapist I have started seeing once a month. It has helped quite a bit and so do your blogs. I’m so glad I have had your blogs; they have been essential to my healing. ❤

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I’m so glad, we all walk this journey together, we may be at different parts of the path, but we don’t walk it alone, we all have things that can help one another. Happy to have you walking with me on mine. SLAY on!

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