Your Freedom Lives in What You Hid
There’s a sentence that has been sitting in my body for weeks now. It finally landed and hasn’t left:
Your freedom lives in the parts of yourself that you learned to hide.
Not the parts you created because you thought you needed to be fixed or turned into something else, so you could be more acceptable.
We're talking about the parts that you learned to tuck away or hide because the world around you didn’t know what to do with them.
For me, it was my voice. My knowing and capacity to see beneath the surface and name what others were pretending not to feel or notice. I was told I needed mentorship, not to grow, but to become more palatable to male leaders in a company that couldn’t hold my presence.
There was a time I was asked to share an update with leadership. I said what I saw: the way things were being done wasn’t working, and there was a better way forward. I thought I spoke confidently, but gently, but the reaction was defensive. I could feel the tension from others in the room and wondered if I’d gone too far.
But even when my words weren’t received, they didn’t disappear. They stayed in the space, and eventually, I saw pieces of what I’d said start to surface later on.
What I’ve learned since then is this: hiding doesn’t make you safer. It makes you smaller. And it doesn’t actually protect you from discomfort; it just delays the moment you eventually have to choose between who you’ve been performing and who you actually are.
When I finally spoke plainly, without putting on a performance, I felt more at peace, even if my words made others uncomfortable. Even if they didn’t receive it well, the truth had been named, and I wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
This is what I want for the people in my world. Not only the courage to speak, but the space to be, without twisting themselves into a version that performs well. I want you to feel the relief of no longer having to manage everyone else’s comfort at the expense of your own.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Sometimes the first thing that wakes up when you stop hiding isn’t your power, it’s your longing. Or your grief or fear.
But that's the start of your journey. It's honest. Even when it's uncomfortable, that honesty is what brings you home to yourself.
When I say your freedom lives in the parts of yourself you learned to hide, I don’t mean it as a challenge. I mean it as an invitation and an initiation.
I'm inviting you to listen for the part of you that’s been waiting, to soften toward what you once silenced, and let your longing be the way back.
It’s not about becoming more, but about coming home to yourself.
