The Danger of Wearing Masks - And the Freedom of Letting Them Go

For a long time, I was living a double life without even realizing it. Not in some dramatic, secret-agent kind of way - but in the way so many of us do without meaning to. Wearing one mask at home, another at work, and a different one altogether in social situations. I had perfected the art of showing up as who I thought I needed to be, depending on where I was and who I was with.

But here’s the problem with masks: eventually, they fall off.

Sometimes it’s subtle. A snappy comment at a dinner party. A shift in tone when you’re stressed. But sometimes it’s jarring - like when I’d come home from a hard day and yell at my kids, not because they did anything wrong, but because I had nowhere else to release the frustration that had built up from work or tension in my marriage. They got the aftermath of a storm that had nothing to do with them. And then the next day, I’d get dressed and head to work - smiling, in control, playing the role of “the boss” like I was in some theatre production.

It felt fake. Because it was. Eventually, I had to ask myself: who am I, really, when no one’s watching? And why is that version of me so different from the one I show the world?

There’s a line in The Courage to Be Disliked that stuck with me: “The courage to be happy also includes the courage to be disliked.” Alot of the time, we wear these masks out of fear - fear of being misunderstood, of disappointing people, of not being enough. So we shape-shift. We code-switch. We tone ourselves down or turn ourselves up. We play the role that makes everyone else comfortable, even if it’s at our own expense But at what cost? When we live that way, we’re not building real relationships - we’re building illusions. People think they know us, but really, they only know the mask. And when cracks start to show, it’s confusing for them and exhausting for us.

The biggest shift in my life came when I made a conscious decision to show up as the same person everywhere. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real. Now, whether I’m with my kids, suppliers, employees, or friends - I try to be consistent. I laugh with the people I work with the same way I laugh with my friends. I bring curiosity and honesty into conversations. I’ve learned that professionalism doesn’t mean being robotic - it means being respectful, responsible, and clear. I can do that and still be myself.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t boundaries. There’s a difference between being open and oversharing, but I’ve found that the more authentic I am, the easier it is to connect with people - because authenticity is magnetic. Let’s be real: it takes work to get here. A lot of self-awareness. A lot of undoing. Many of the roles I used to play were rooted in survival - ways I learned to cope or protect myself based on past experiences. The danger of staying in those roles is that you end up stuck, reacting instead of choosing how to show up.

One of the hardest truths I had to face was that I took things out on the most vulnerable people in my life. And that just isn’t fair. It’s easy to lash out when you’re overwhelmed. It’s easy to assume your child will “forgive” you because they love you unconditionally, but what does that teach them? What does it do to their sense of safety? Real change started when I slowed down enough to see the person in front of me. Not as someone who triggered me, but as a human - with feelings, stories, and wounds of their own. That pause, that awareness, has saved me from saying or doing things I’d regret more times than I can count.

The journey back to yourself isn’t linear. You’ll mess up. You’ll fall back into old habits. You’ll put on the mask again without even realizing it. But if you catch yourself, take it off, and keep going - that’s what matters. Living authentically doesn’t mean being raw and vulnerable all the time. It means being honest. With yourself and with others. The best way I’ve found to stay honest? Be present. When you're present, you're not performing. You're not replaying yesterday's stories or trying to predict tomorrow's reactions. You're simply responding to the moment in front of you - as you are. That kind of presence keeps you grounded. It helps you hear what’s actually being said, notice how you’re showing up, and make choices that align with who you truly want to be. Authenticity lives in presence - because when you're fully here, there's no space for the mask.

And when you start to live from that place - where everyone in your life would describe you in the same way - something amazing happens: you start to feel free. Free from performing. Free from pleasing. Free from pretending. In that freedom, your relationships get deeper. Your work becomes more fulfilling. Your presence becomes more impactful.

Because you’re no longer playing a role. You’re just being you and that’s more than enough!