A Love Note on Authenticity
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Real authenticity heals your nervous system.
Not the curated version of “being real.”
Not the performance of vulnerability.
But the kind of truth that reconnects you to yourself.
The kind of truth that feels honest in your body.
The kind that brings peace, even when it’s not easy.
The kind that doesn’t shift depending on who’s in the room.
We throw the word authenticity around a lot. Especially in the world of personal growth, spirituality, or online presence. But I’ve been feeling more and more lately — we’ve forgotten what it actually means.
Authenticity isn’t just expressing yourself.
It’s not “being raw” for performance.
It’s not using your personal life to sell a story.
It’s about integrity. Energetic coherence. Wholeness.
And it’s not always easy. But it’s necessary.
The Blur Between Persona and Person
I’ve been reflecting on how easy it is — especially for those of us who share our work or lives online — to slowly lose touch with ourselves.
Of course, we all have the creative freedom to shape a persona, to express our message in a certain voice or tone. We don’t owe the internet every detail of our lives.
But the trouble starts when the line between “on stage” and “off stage” begins to blur — not just for your audience, but for you.
When you use your real life as part of the content storyline, but also feel the need to keep up an image — that’s where the confusion begins. You become both the narrator and the character. You try to stay “on brand,” even when your inner reality has shifted.
An actor can step off stage and return to themselves. But on social media, we don’t always know when the performance ends. And that matters — not just for optics, but for your nervous system.
There’s a cost when you’re always “on.”
There’s a cost when the version of you people expect to see becomes a mask you can’t take off.
Even if it started as truthful, over time, it can become just another performance. And that performance creates incoherence. Stress. Fragmentation.
In an Age of Constant Visibility: At What Cost?
In this day and age, it seems every entrepreneur — from makeup artists to doctors, from home repair technicians to coaches and healers — needs to be on social media.
It’s expected. It’s normalized. And for many, it’s deeply draining.
Over and over, I hear it from the coaches I work with:
“Creating content has become the most stressful part of my work.”
“Filming reels makes me want to hide.”
“It’s the part I dread most — but I feel like I have to do it.”
In my hypnosis training, we were reminded that the fear of public speaking is one of the most common fears in the world. Not fear of failing. Not fear of death. Fear of being seen.
These are clues.
Clues that point not to the next IG or TikTok strategy masterclass,
but to something deeper.
A signal from your nervous system, your body, your subtle wisdom:
This is not how we are meant to live.
We haven’t yet caught up — as a culture — to what our nervous systems already know:
The price of constant performance.
The strain of visibility without grounding.
The spiritual cost of self-betrayal.
People say, “Well, just be yourself.”
But it’s not that simple.
Because there are finer nuances that our nervous systems pick up on —
subtle shifts in tone, posture, expression, energy —
that signal whether or not we are safe to be truly ourselves.
Most of us don’t intend to perform when we begin sharing our work.
But then… something happens.
We notice what “performs well.”
We start to repeat it.
We feed the algorithm.
We follow the trends.
We edit. We filter. We rehearse.
And if we’re not conscious, if we don’t pause to ask whether this is still true,
we fall into the pattern of self-editing and subtle performance.
And this is the moment the body begins to resist.
This is where fatigue, dread, or creative block show up —
not as failure, but as messages:
Something here is not in integrity anymore.
The Incoherence of Pretending
Here’s the deeper impact — and why this matters beyond aesthetics or “keeping it real.”
When we wear different faces in different places — one for our clients, one for our family, one for social media, and maybe one just for ourselves — we create internal incoherence.
Our nervous system picks up on it.
Our energy gets fragmented.
Our truth gets edited.
And our soul?
She gets tired.
I’ve spoken to so many people who tell me, “I’m exhausted and I don’t know why.”
And often, underneath the exhaustion is this:
They are editing themselves all day long.
Whether it’s in a job where you have to put on a certain “professional” mask, or a relationship where your truth gets filtered, or an online space where you don’t feel safe to show what’s raw — all of that adds up.
It takes an enormous amount of energy to be someone you're not.
Even more when you're convincing yourself it’s fine.
And at some point, the system begins to fray.
Authenticity as a Nervous System Practice
This is where the yogic path — and its wisdom — holds us.
In the 8 limbs of yoga, Satya (truth) and Svadhyaya (self-study) aren’t abstract concepts. They’re embodied practices. They're how we return to coherence.
Because when our thoughts, words, energy, and actions align — we move through the world with ease. With flow. With power.
We often talk about coherence as a key to manifestation.
But even more than that, coherence is the foundation for a thriving, sustainable, truth-aligned life.
Without it, we feel drained, confused, scattered, reactive.
With it, we feel grounded, spacious, magnetic, and clear.
So no — authenticity isn’t about being radically open or sharing your every wound online.
It’s about choosing to live in integrity — moment by moment, breath by breath.
When You Betray Yourself, You Know It
Maybe you’ve felt it. That little moment of self-betrayal.
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When you smile and agree even though your gut says no.
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When you post something that feels just a little off, but do it anyway because it “performs well.”
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When you bite your tongue, hide your joy, or wear someone else’s expectation like it’s your own.
It’s easy to brush these things off.
But your body remembers.
Your nervous system keeps score.
This is why authenticity matters.
Not because it looks good.
But because it feels true.
And truth brings relief.
Coming Home
Authenticity is not a trend.
It’s not a tactic.
It’s not a strategy.
It’s a devotional act.
A homecoming.
A sacred unmasking.
And yes — it might shake things loose.
It might cause shifts in relationships, business, identity.
But self-abandonment has a cost.
And your truth?
It’s far too sacred to keep betraying.
🌀 Dim Sum Reflection
What’s one area of your life where you feel most “yourself”?
And one where you feel you still perform a little?
If your nervous system could speak, what would it whisper right now?
Let’s keep this conversation alive.
I’d love to hear in the comments or private replies if this stirred something for you.