For too long, I have lived as though it were unsafe to be myself. My biggest fear: that everyone around me would see something I am missing, that someone would call me out, see through me—realize that I am not actually good enough.
“Why are you being weird?” “This doesn’t seem like you.” “She is trying too hard.” “Are you sure you can call yourself that?” “Since when is she like that?” “Who is she kidding?” “You don’t belong here.”
These voices echo in my mind, reinforcing the story about who I am, the things that are viable, and the things I just cannot do, cannot be.
These words were spoken by others, at various times in my past. But the echo remains in the present. As if bouncing off the walls of an empty house, they repeat their judgments in a residual hum. The words ring true, just as they did the day they were spoken.
To keep from hearing the harsh sound, I build a version of myself that feels safe to show others, one I can hide behind, a facade that puts some distance between me and the noise. I do the things I know I am good at, the things I think other people want, the things they like, praise, reward, are impressed by. This feels better than rejection. This is better than trying to be something that I am “not.”
But is it?
Why does it feel like something is missing, like my existence is somehow muffled?
Why do these echoes from the past persist?
Because I am not home.
The house is empty, the walls are bare, there is nothing to diffuse the sound.
I never had a chance to move in. I was young when I was first told, “You don’t belong here.” I didn’t know I was the one with the key.
But I do now.
So I step beside the girl I was.
I take her hand.
I gently reach inside her pocket, pull out the key, and open the door.
And then, I guide her inside.
The truth of who I am dwells in my home, in the center of my heart. And now that I have taken up residence, the words of others can no longer linger as they used to. The echoes might take time to fade, but the tone has shifted—they no longer resonate. The past no longer shapes my future.
Have the words of others ever lingered in your mind? How have they shaped the way you see yourself?