Do you ever feel lost trying to keep up with modern life? It’s so easy to become disconnected from your authentic self. Why is that? A big part of it is the masks we wear. We don’t adopt these invisible disguises as deliberate deceptions. They are protective shields that we’ve developed since childhood, often without realising it. Yet these masks that once kept us safe now hold us back from the life we truly want to live.
The birth of our masks
Our masks don't appear overnight. They're carefully constructed from childhood, born out of our deepest need for connection and belonging. When a child expresses anger and is told to "stop being dramatic," their developing mind learns a harsh lesson: this version of me isn't acceptable. When creativity is dismissed as "not a proper career," we learn to suppress our true desires in favour of what others expect.
This conditioning creates what we might call the "calm mask," the perpetual state of being fine, even when we're screaming inside. There's also the "mirroring mask," where we adopt the opinions and preferences of those around us, slowly losing ourselves in the process. Perhaps most damaging is the "confidence mask," where we project certainty while drowning in self-doubt, inadvertently making others feel inadequate in comparison.
These patterns become so automatic that by the time we’re adults, we're performing roles we never consciously chose, wondering why we feel like robots going through the motions of someone else's life.
The fear that keeps us trapped
At the heart of our mask-wearing lies a primal fear, the fear of rejection and abandonment. We've learned that certain versions of ourselves aren't welcome in the world, so we hide them away. This fear runs deeper than social awkwardness. It touches our fundamental need for connection, which some behavioural scientists suggest may be as essential as food, water, and shelter.
The irony is that our masks, designed to help us belong, actually prevent true connection. When we're all performing versions of ourselves, we can only achieve surface-level relationships. We remain strangers to each other and to ourselves. The very thing we're trying to protect, our sense of belonging, becomes impossible to achieve.
Living behind masks takes its toll. We suppress our creative desires because they're deemed "impractical." We people-please until we're exhausted, terrified that saying no will result in abandonment. We suffer from imposter syndrome, convinced that we're frauds about to be discovered, because we've been performing for so long we've forgotten who we really are.
Often the most heartbreaking thing is how masking affects our sense of purpose. When you're living someone else's version of success, following a paint-by-numbers existence designed by societal expectations, it's natural to wonder, "Where's my purpose in this? I feel like a robot." The masks that were meant to help us fit in have instead made us feel fundamentally disconnected from life itself.
Gentle steps towards authenticity
The journey back to authenticity begins with a simple but profound question: What do I actually want? This requires moving from our heads into our hearts, from thinking to feeling. Meditation, even just sitting in silence, can help us reconnect with our inner wisdom. Journalling offers another pathway, allowing us to discover what emerges when we stop censoring ourselves.
The key is starting small and starting safe. Practice authenticity with people you trust most. If a friend is used to you always agreeing, try offering your own opinion. Yes, there might be pushback, but true friends will likely appreciate finally hearing your voice.
Remember that this isn't about becoming confrontational or hurtful. You can be tactful while being honest. You can hold different opinions without making anyone wrong. The goal isn't to shock people but to gradually introduce them, and yourself, to the real you.
When we stop performing and start living authentically, we give others permission to do the same. We break the vicious cycle of pretence that keeps us all trapped in surface-level existence.
This work isn't easy, and it's not linear. Some days you'll feel brave enough to show up authentically, on others you'll retreat behind familiar masks. That's not failure, that's human. The goal isn't perfection but progress, one small authentic moment at a time.
In a world that profits from our insecurities and performance, choosing authenticity is a radical act. It's reclaiming the self you were before the world told you who to be. Behind every mask lies someone worthy of love and belonging, exactly as they are.