Authenticity isn't easy, but it is Freedom

Hello. I wanted to talk a little bit about authenticity and the whole concept of being your authentic self, of becoming more you. There’s a lot of support for being your authentic self and that it’s OK to be different from everybody else. That sounds groovy, that sounds real. But there are a lot of unintended consequences that come with wanting to be more authentic.

As you grow into your authenticity, one of the things you come up against is the need to fit in. It’s a primal need, a primal urge, and like pretty much all the other needs and desires, it has been overwritten by programming and confused, inaccurate information. The theory is that if you don’t fit in—and this is subconscious, not in your brain with words, but deeper—if you don’t fit in, you’re not safe. So the first premise is: if you’re just you, you can’t fit in. On a socialization level, that’s pretty true.

Especially as a little kid, you think, “I have to adapt to the tribe I’m in,” which is whoever you’re living with. Most families are somewhere on a spectrum of dysfunction and functionality. Some are seriously messed up. A baby is supposed to be looking at the mom for connection and reflection—the mom reflects the baby back to the baby. If that’s distorted, which it usually is because moms weren’t “momed” properly either, then the baby makes conclusions. The baby deduces: “If I’m really quiet, they won’t hit me,” or “If I smile and giggle a lot, they’ll like me better.”

So right from the beginning, the consciousness of the child figures out the room before language. Energy is our first language, and for those who are clairvoyant, pictures are too. As a little kid, you can feel disapproval, you can see how they react and respond, what gets your needs met and what doesn’t. You’ll adapt. The baby, then the child, comes up with behaviors that are conversations with the mom, then the other adults, the dad, siblings.

Learning to be yourself doesn’t really come into it unless you had an extraordinary and unusual kind of parent and home life. For those of us who did not, no matter how well-meaning our parents were, what we think of as our personality is basically a collection of coping patterns and strategies to get our needs met. We’re supposed to have our needs met, but society is so corkscrewy.

After 20 or 30 years, you discover your relationships repeat your sibling and family dynamics, because you’re still acting out those conclusions and assumptions. They give you mixed results, and as you get older, worse and worse results. Eventually you realize: “Oh my God, I have no idea who I am.” You’ve been a collection of brilliant strategies—they were brilliant in the moment, but not for a lifetime.

Often society makes us wrong for a lot of things, so we deduce that we have character defects or pathologies that need fixing. The culture is obsessed with what’s wrong and problem-solving. But reducing everything to problem-solving cuts out tremendous wisdom and other possibilities.

At some point—maybe in your 20s, maybe later—you realize you don’t know who you are. And in our culture, there’s shame in that. As insane as being told in 8th grade you should know what you want to do for the rest of your life. Another crazy premise is that you’re a utility. “What is your function going to be? What is your purpose going to be?” But think about it: you’re a human being. Being is in the name. Being is dynamic—alive, in motion, in relationship.

So you find yourself not knowing who you are and assuming everybody else does. It looks like everybody else has it figured out, and somehow you didn’t get the handbook. That reinforces the lie that you’re not good enough. But when you hit that place of “I don’t know who I am,” that’s actually the point of beginning. That’s when you can stop pretending.

Most of us pretended for safety and social well-being. So when you reach the threshold of leaving behind predictions, conclusions, assumptions of who you are, who they are, what life is—you stand in front of this vast spaciousness. It might look bright and blinding, like you can’t see anything ahead. It takes courage to say, “I don’t know who I am, and this is an adventure.”

What you’re leaving behind are definitions, conclusions, socialization, coping strategies, and other people’s biases. Nobody wakes up saying, “Yay, I don’t know who I am,” but it really is a good thing. We’re in a period of human evolution where constructs are falling apart. While people argue about right and wrong and what to do, the higher perspective is that things fall apart so they can come together in a better way—something that fits you better, suits you better.

It’s like a long-term marriage ending with deceit. At first it feels catastrophic—“My whole life was a lie, I was made a fool.” But later you discover: “Thank God, I’m not living a lie anymore. I’m not being gaslit. I get to decide what I want to do and who I am.” There’s a growth period of adjustment—emotional, uncomfortable—but it’s breaking up with lies. And that means truth is ready to support you. You can form a more comfortable understanding of yourself—less rigid, less defined by others, more semi-permeable, allowing for change.

That gives you freedom and spaciousness. You connect with who you really are: an infinite being with this amazing body, on this phenomenal planet, at this amazing time. So many possibilities. You define yourself less, use others’ definitions less. You discover the more you are you, the faster you stop getting along with people who don’t work for you or who want to change or judge you. And in reacting with them, you see where you’ve judged yourself. You get free of that.

You discover that being you is the most comfortable place on the planet. You’re connected to your higher self that knows what your body-personality may never know. But your body-personality is OK with that, because it knows your Spirit has your back. All your different parts, all your ages, can relax and get along because you’re living in the truth of you, however fluid it may be.

Yes, it’s scary to individuate from friends and become your authentic self, especially when that’s still amorphous. The trade-off is that you get to be you, and you get to have your back. Other people may fall away, other relationships may end, and that’s happening on the planet right now. But when you have you, your cup is full, it’s overflowing. You attract people who aspire to have themselves and have their own back. Friendships then are based on more than survival or hiding.

It feels great. You can’t give what you don’t have. If you don’t love yourself, have compassion, spaciousness, and self-acceptance, you can’t give or receive those things. But when you do, your cup runneth over. You know who to take up with and who to walk past, which saves time, energy, and heartache.

Becoming true to yourself, becoming your authentic self, is a journey. It includes rites of passage, which can be daunting. But the more you focus on being on your side, on being who you came here to be, the more you’ll know it’s a gift. And it is a gift—not only to you, but to everyone. People you’ll never meet benefit from your seeking sovereignty and learning to live from that.

So—hope this helps. See you later.

 This is the transcript of this YouTube video from 10/28/25