Every morning, before I step out into the light, I reach for a garment no one else can see. I’ve come to think of it as my invisibility cloak—carefully woven layers of habits, tones, and expressions that allow me to blend perfectly into the world for the safety of myself and my loved ones. This isn’t just a habit; it’s an art, a necessity, and a heavy imposition I’ve carried for a while.Â
I do it because I love them. I do it so my parents can introduce me to their friends without stuttering mid-sentence or feeling the need to explain something they don’t understand.Â
There is a fear that sits at the base of my throat, the fear of being seen as different, the fear of seeing the people I care about look at me with confusion or humiliation, or the fear that my loved ones could get hurt as a result of how I choose to live my life. I have spent my life terrified of becoming a burden to the people I love. To avoid that, I’ve learned to cut off parts of myself, suppressing my own desires so deeply that they no longer haunt me with the same sharp disconnect.Â
I fill the resulting holes with other things, hobbies, work, and the quiet routines of a normal life. In my darkest moments, I justify this persistent misery as an act of self-sacrificing love for the people who matter most to me. If my silence is the price of their peace, I tell myself it’s a price I’m willing to pay.Â
Living a life of constant performance is tiresome. It is mentally exhausting to spend every day looking ahead and over your shoulder, terrified of being found out, even if in the past I was so open. Over the years, this contorting and conforming to fit into the boxes others have built for me has created a fracture within me.Â
When you spend all your energy ensuring you don’t disrupt others’ comfort, you realize you are shrinking your own existence. For a long time, I believed that authenticity was less important than having a relationship with someone who loved me for who I was. I sacrificed a part of myself for them, and now I cannot take back what I gave away for others.Â
Eventually, though, you look in the mirror and realize you have smoothed over your edges so thoroughly for the sake of others that you can no longer see your own soul, see what you once were, and are not able to relive how happy you once were. You are alive, and you are keeping the peace, but you are performing a version of yourself that belongs to everyone else but you.
The strongest advice I could give to someone who feels similar is to not let people have such an influence on you that you begin to lose a part of yourself. Reach out, talk to people, and again, never change for anyone but yourself.