Exhibit A: The version I thought I was supposed to be.

Exhibit B: The one who shows up – with an open heart, a lot of courage, and the occasional existential wobble. (Okay, fine, more than occasional).

Listen, I tried to look professional.I really did.

And then I remembered who I am.

I got very good at it. Olympic-level, actually.

Yes, I can be eloquent. Yes, I know my stuff.

But also yes: I trip over my own feet (literally and metaphorically), forget people’s names the second they’ve told me them, and agonise over what I’m supposed to do with my face during Zoom calls.

I’ve spent a lot of my life masking—performing the version of myself that seemed acceptable, polished, “together.”

I could present as accomplished, confident, emotionally bulletproof—all while quietly panicking, doubting myself, and wondering, not if I left my real personality at home, but if I had a real personality at all.

Grief? I masked it.

Neurodivergence? Masked.

Overwhelm, fear, not fitting in? Oh look, more masks.

But here’s the thing: the longer you wear the mask, the more you start to believe it is you. And eventually, something breaks.

Now?

I refuse to pretend anymore. This silly, sweary, compassionate, messy human is the one who shows up.

Lean into your humanity. That’s where the magic is, people.