vulnerability and healing

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.

We’re Only As Sick As Our Secrets

For a long time, my entire life was a secret.

I hid what I was thinking.
I hid what I was doing.
I hid how I was really feeling.

I carried shame, confusion, and anger quietly, convincing myself that keeping everything inside was somehow safer than letting anyone see the truth. I believed secrecy gave me control.

Instead, it made me sick.

Very sick.

And the hardest truth to accept was this:
I was the one holding myself there.

The Illusion of Control That Secrets Create

When we keep secrets, it often feels like protection.

We tell ourselves we’re avoiding judgment.
We think we’re sparing others.
We believe silence keeps us in control.

But secrets don’t protect us — they isolate us.

They keep us from asking for help.
They keep us from being known.
They keep us trapped in our own minds.

I believed that if no one knew, I could manage it on my own. But what I was really doing was cutting myself off from the very things that could have helped me heal.

The Moment the Truth Lost Its Power

Everything changed the first time I asked for help.

The first time I said out loud what I had been hiding.

That’s when I heard a phrase that landed like a weight in my chest:

“You’re only as sick as your secrets.”

It was devastating — and freeing — all at once.

Because suddenly, I could see how much suffering I had endured not because of what I’d done, but because I refused to speak it. The moment I shared my truth, it lost its grip on me.

There was nothing left to hide.

And in that openness, I found freedom.

Shame Thrives in Silence

Secrets feed shame.

They whisper that we are bad people.
That we’re unlovable.
That no one would understand.

But shame lies.

There is nothing you’ve done that someone else hasn’t already done, felt, or survived. We like to believe our pain makes us uniquely broken — but the truth is, our experiences connect us far more than they separate us.

When we share our truth, what we usually meet is not punishment — but understanding. Compassion. Connection.

And sometimes, in telling our story, we give someone else permission to tell theirs.

Why I’m Not Afraid to Share My Story

People often ask me if I’m afraid to share my truth publicly.

Do I worry about judgment?
Do I fear what people might think?

And the answer is no.

Because the people who matter most in my life already know my story — the broad strokes, the truth of where I’ve been and who I am now. I told them years ago, and in doing so, I was released from the bondage of my past.

I own my story.
I own my choices.
And I also know I am no longer that person.

There is power in that clarity — far more power than silence ever gave me.

Secrecy Makes Us Vulnerable Honesty Makes Us Safe

The kind of “power” secrets give us is false.

It feels like control, but it actually leaves us exposed — to ourselves, to our darkness, and sometimes to people who would exploit what we hide.

Honesty removes that leverage.

When you are open, there is nothing to hold over you. No threat. No fear of being found out. You get to stand in truth instead of hiding behind it.

And that truth doesn’t just heal you — it protects you.

Sharing Your Truth Builds Real Connection

Being honest about where we’ve come from allows people to understand us more fully.

It deepens relationships.
It opens communication.
It builds trust.

Sometimes it also keeps us physically or emotionally safe — especially when others need to understand our boundaries, our triggers, or the reasons we must protect ourselves from certain people or situations.

Your truth gives context to your needs.

And context invites compassion.

Freedom Lives on the Other Side of Secrecy

At the end of the day, you hold the key to your freedom.

Keeping secrets you believe are “unshareable” doesn’t protect you — it imprisons you. It keeps you from intimacy, from support, and from fully living your life.

You don’t have to tell everyone everything.
But you do need to tell someone.

Because secrecy keeps pain alive — and truth allows it to heal.

You are only as sick as your secrets.

Don’t let them own you.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: Are there parts of your life or past you’ve never shared with anyone?
L: What fears keep you holding those secrets?
A: What do you believe would happen if you spoke your truth out loud?
Y: How might your life change if you chose honesty over hiding?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever experienced freedom after sharing something you thought you had to hide?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s carrying secrets that are weighing them down, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.