Here’s something I wish someone had told me sooner: there’s nothing wrong with being different. There is something exhausting about pretending you’re not.
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People Pleasing, Burnout, and the High Cost of Compartmentalizing
Here’s a fun party trick no one asked for: I can sense someone else’s disappointment before they’ve even said a word—and immediately start over-functioning to fix it. Is it emotional intuition? Trauma response? Answer: a fun mixture of both.
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When Authenticity Walked In: The Day My Nervous System Exhaled
Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t start showing up authentically at work because I had some sort of epiphany during a team-building ropes course. I started because I was tired. Burnout wasn’t just a buzzword—it was my personality. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep smiling through being overloaded and clenching my jaw like it was holding my life together (because, in a way, it was).
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The Mask I Didn’t Know I Was Wearing: A Lifetime of Compartmentalizing
When You Become a Master of Disguise Without Realizing It
If you’ve ever felt like you’re a slightly different person at work than you are with friends, family, or even your dog—hi, welcome. You’re in very relatable company.
I didn’t set out to compartmentalize. I didn’t make a little chart and say, “Here’s Me for Teachers, Me for Friends, Me for My Parents, and Me for Quietly Crying in the Shower.” But I did learn how to shapeshift early on. Like, before-my-permanent-teeth-grew-in early.
And like many kids, I was just trying to figure out how to exist in a world that didn’t seem to have space for how I naturally showed up. I didn’t know I was masking. I thought I was just “being good.”
ADHD, Childhood, and the Art of Staying Small
Looking back, undiagnosed ADHD was a major plot twist in this whole story. My brain didn’t work like my classmates’, and I knew that—sort of. I didn’t have the vocabulary, but I definitely had the anxiety.
So I stayed quiet. I laughed when I thought a joke had been told. I sat in the back of the classroom like I was trying to win hide-and-seek. The goal was simple: blend in. Do not stand out. Do not make waves. That felt like the worst thing that could possibly happen to me. (ADHD Sidenote: Except for Edward Scissorhands cutting his way from under my bed up through my mattress. Yes, that was a real fear. No, we don’t have time to unpack it right now.)
At home, emotional expression was . . . complicated. Crying got you sent to your room. Being loud got you compared to your sibling. I learned early on that love came with asterisks. But I could joke around with my dad, who is extremely sarcastic. So humor became my secret weapon. It felt safe.
College Years: Same Performance, New Audience
In college, I kept up the act. I was friendly, helpful, a good listener. Inside? Constantly nervous. I even felt intimidated by some of my closest friends. Not because they did anything wrong, but because I still didn’t feel like I could fully exhale around anyone.
My freshman year, I nearly completed suicide. Junior year, I developed trichotillomania—pulling out my eyebrows compulsively. And this was before brow filler was a thing. It was rough. Thin was in, but bald was not.
Even then, I didn’t think I was “compartmentalizing.” I thought I was adapting. Surviving. Doing what everyone else seemed to be doing, just a little more frantically.
Now Hiring—Your Most Polished Self
When I entered the workforce, I leveled up my performance game. I became the Helpful Coworker. The “Yes, absolutely!” person. The one who offered to take on extra projects even when her own plate was piled like a wobbly Jenga tower.
Burnout came quickly. So did the teeth grinding. (Nothing says “I’m fine” like clenching your jaw through REM sleep.)
My go-to fix? Get a new job! New team, new environment, and new opportunity to burn out all over again. It took years to realize I wasn’t just tired—I was emotionally overdrawn. I was working so hard to keep all the versions of myself straight, I didn’t notice I’d completely lost track of the real one.
Finally Letting Myself Show Up—All the Way
Everything changed when I landed at a company that actually meant it when they said, “Bring your whole self to work.” For the first time, I stopped editing myself so much. I let myself be sarcastic. I told the truth about being overwhelmed. I shared personal things with coworkers and work things with friends. Coworkers became friends. The lines blurred—in the best way.
And slowly, my nervous system started to exhale.
When you’ve been wearing different masks your whole life, you don’t realize how heavy they are until you set them down. I had no idea how much of my mental energy was being spent on simply managing how I came across in every space I entered. I thought I was being productive. Turns out, I was being performative.
If this is you—if you’ve been shape-shifting your way through life without even realizing it—please know: you’re not broken. You’re adaptive. And you deserve to let your guard down and live without the burden of constant performance.
A Quick Practice
Can you spot your mask? Take five quiet minutes and ask yourself:
Where do I feel like I’m putting on a version of myself just to be accepted?
What would it feel like to show up just 5% more me in that space?
Is there one place where I could safely stop pretending—even just a little?
Write it down or type it up. Voice memo it. No edits, no judgment.
Final Thought: Compartmentalization Saved You
Compartmentalizing helped you survive. That means it worked. But now, you get to ask—do I still need this mask? Or can I start building a life where I don’t have to hide different parts of myself in different rooms?
Spoiler alert: when you start showing up as your full self, the rooms you walk into get a whole lot warmer.