The Day I Realized I Didn’t Have to Pretend at Work
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).
I’d bounced from job to job, trying to find “the right fit,” but each time I just found new ways to overfunction in different locations with different people. I thought I had a work ethic. What I actually had was a deeply internalized belief that my value was directly proportional to how helpful I was to others—even if it killed me.
Then, something weird happened.
I got a job where I didn’t feel the need to wear my mask every morning. A workplace where being human wasn’t just tolerated—it was encouraged.
And honestly? I didn’t know what to do with that at first.
You Mean I Can Just Be?
This company said things like “bring your whole self to work,” and I half-expected there to be a hidden asterisk that read: Except for your weird jokes, anxiety spirals, and non-traditional career path.
But no asterisk ever came. And slowly, I started to test the waters:
I cracked jokes in meetings (the kind I usually saved for friends).
I told coworkers when I was overwhelmed instead of pretending to be fine.
I let myself say, “I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out,” and nobody flinched or revoked my job offer.
For the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to swap masks between “Work Me” and “Real Me.” I wasn’t burning extra mental fuel calculating how I was coming across in every interaction.
My nervous system started to relax. Not all at once. But enough that I noticed: Oh. This is what it feels like to just exist.
Real Friendships, Real Conversations, Real Relief
Something beautiful started to happen. I made actual friends at work. Not just “we’ll laugh at the same Slack memes” friends, but “we’ve seen each other cry and still want to hang out” friends. I felt emotionally safe enough to say things like “Hey, I’m not doing great today,” and have it met with support instead of judgment or awkward silence.
The less I performed, the more I connected. Turns out, people respond to authenticity. (Wild, I know.)
I also noticed that because I was showing up consistently across my life, my emotions became easier to track. If something felt off, I could trust it wasn’t because I was off in that particular environment—it was the environment itself. That clarity was game-changing.
What Happens When You Stop Splitting Yourself
Let me be clear: authenticity doesn’t mean baring your soul in every staff meeting or bringing your full existential dread to the team stand-up. (Unless, of course, you’re in a very specific type of startup.)
It just means your inner world and outer world stop being total strangers. It means the same “you” shows up in most places, give or take some strategic editing.
And the ripple effects? They’re real:
My anxiety lowered. Not disappeared, but absolutely took a chill pill.
I stopped second-guessing every interaction for clues that I had done something wrong.
I started trusting my gut more. And because I was actually listening to myself, I could hear the messages I’d been squashing for years.
Including the ones about my identity, my values, and what kind of life I actually wanted to build. (More on that in a later post.)
A Quick Practice
This week, pick one safe space—maybe work, maybe a social setting—and share one small, real thing:
“Actually, I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed today.”
“That task stressed me out more than I expected.”
“I’m excited about this, but also nervous.”
It doesn’t have to be deep. Just true. Watch what happens.
Final Thought: It’s Not What But How
Work isn’t just about what you do—it’s about how you do it. And if you’ve been walking into the office every day like you’re auditioning for a role you didn’t even want, it’s okay to lay that script down.
Because the more you show up as yourself, the more you give other people permission to do the same. And suddenly? You’re not just working. You’re belonging.