THE COURAGE TO BE FULLY SEEN - Why Authenticity Feels So Terrifying | 24
Receive Letters from Flora every Thursday and read each conversation in full before it goes online.
Prefer to watch this transmission?
It is a constant challenge to be fully who we are, showing all of us. The angst to be exposed sits so deep that we constantly manage how we are perceived. I am just coming from a weekend where a lot of that happened - the desire to belong seemed to be clashing with authentically being who I am, which brought up a lot of thoughts of not being sexual enough, poly enough, cool enough. It take so much courage to acknowledge that this is not me, but this is. And it can be different, from moment to moment. Maybe you are standing at a threshold. Maybe the people around you call it an identity crisis. Maybe you are shedding masks, burning heavy cloaks, lightening the load. And perhaps someone (potentially they've known you for while) is asking: "Is this really you? Who is this? This is not the person I know." Do we have the courage to say, "This is me now. Hi." This can go two ways (or maybe more, let me know your thoughts): 1. they love and accept us for who we are now. 2. they refuse and reject us. I really wish that meeting ourselves, and be met and meet others and their current versions with curiosity. Authenticity invites intimacy. And intimacy is not for the fainthearted.
THE STORY
Showing up publicly has taught me a lot about being seen. It was February, half a year ago, when I followed the deep, clear inner call to give it my all, to try everything, to be seen with my work. That was the time and place of birth of what you are reading, watching weekly right now. Some of you have seen and acknowledged the amount of work, blood, sweat and tears that go into those videos and articles. I am purely self produced, and had some incredible mentorship in the beginning. My neighbour loved my vision, and set me up with recording equipment and proceeded to teach me everything I know about editing. People keep showing up, lending me their gear, supporting me with advise.
I tell stories about sex, abuse, drugs, ambition, disconnection, grief, desire, law, business and becoming. I try to share honestly, knowing that the internet only ever offers glimpses.
Some people tell me that my work moved them. They listened while cooking dinner, cried with me, or felt permission to become more real themselves.
Others send dick pics, call me names, ask whether I am an escort or tell me: "This is not who you are."
Being seen requires getting good at rejection. I cannot control whether I am accurately perceived. You will always see me through the filter of your own life and experience. My work is not to control the filter. My work is to create. And still, the temptation to curate myself is enormous. Do I make the stories more digestible? Do I soften the edges? Do I remove the sex, anger, grief, lust and darkness? Do I turn down the spice so that I become easier to accept? Or can I choose creation over perfection? Can I trust that I will be okay when someone sees me and does not approve?
Simply the idea of someone feeling seen, less alone, a taste of relief that they share a similar experience, keeps me going. The idea of creating for creation's sake keeps me going. The idea of lightening the load, of "normalizing" whatever it is that needs normalizing (burn out, putting on masks, performance pressure, identity crises, feeling lost and lonely in the corporate world, addiction, ....) keeps me going. I love it when I hear from you. When I get approached in the street, "When you said xyz, I felt massive relief and started crying". Please, keep telling me. I want to hear about your experience. You help me keep going. And yes, some comments sting, especially when they come from people close to me.
THE PATTERN
Hiding doesn't mean we're fake. Sometimes we hide because being real once had real consequences. I would't even know what is harder - hiding or not. No doubt that at some point in your life, you were rejected, punished, ridiculed or abandoned when you showed your anger, sexuality, ambition, beauty, despair, vulnerability, brilliance or desire. It hurts. It makes us doubt and question ourselves. It makes us not wanting to be real. It makes us want to hide, disappear, polish. The more we experience of this rejection, the more we learn to become polished. On the one hand, it makes life "easier", less friction, less doubt, less questions. On a surface level, more belonging, more compliance, more easy. Being rejected, refused, blacklisted, attacked, silenced, punished or even receiving unwanted attention simply for being who we are leads to putting on masks. We pretend to be regulated, easygoing, competent, strong. The more carefully curated version of you may receive admiration, attention and approval. And yet, the true you might have gotten lost in translation, in trying so hard to belong. Is it truly you who is being known? Or is the polished you being admired? Who is desired? Is it really you, or who you learned to pretend to be? So who is it that is truly known? The polished version of you might be easier to understand. But is is really you who is being witnessed, in all your expressions, loud and proud, or tiny and scared? Are you being met in who you truly are, or simply being followed? The curated images we learn to put out into the world, are they truly loved, seen, known, witnessed? We can become extremely skilled at impression management while quietly starving for intimacy. And the more authentic we become, the more surface we offer for projection, criticism and rejection. Also, the more authentic we become, the more surface we offer for love, respect, relationship and intimacy. Being fully seen therefore asks for more than confidence. It asks for inner safety. It asks: Can I remain connected to myself even when someone misunderstands me? It's a big risk. And oh so rewarding.
THE INVITATION
Potentially you spent decades, most of your life, becoming someone the world can trust. The world (your investors, clients, employers, teams, partners, family) counts on your competence, intellect, and expertise. You are respected and successful. People rely on you. Your decisions carry weight and impact many. Your identity has been shaped by performance, responsibility and control.
But the polished version of you may be the only version anyone gets to meet. You are perceived as the carefully polished identities. Your clients see the expert. Your employees see you as the leader. Your family see you as the provider. But who sees the human beneath the roles? Where is space for your fears, desires, longing, tenderness, and uncertainty? Where is space for the parts and identities of you that were polished away in order to not disappoint, disapprove, disrespect?
And hey, I am not inviting you to reveal everything to everyone. Keep your discernment. This might require practice, flailing and failing. I am inviting you to take note where intimacy has been replaced by presentation.
Can you allow a couple of trusted person to meet you before you have organized the story? Do you have a couple of close friends? Someone beyond a partner? Can you speak before editing every sentence? Can you reveal a desire without immediately defending it?
Real intimacy begins where impression management ends. I am wondering how you started any and all of your relationships, the intimate and the professional ones. Were you real, in any of them? At least a little? Or did they all only get the curated, safe version of you? Sure, success may make you visible. But you know what allows you to be known, truly? All of you. The angry, the lusting, the freaky, the teary, the wild, the weak, the powerful, the potent, the lost, the scared, the list is infinite. Presence allows you to be known.
Receive Letters from Flora every Thursday and read each conversation in full before it goes online.