On being your true self

Just quick reminder this week:

Trying to be someone you’re not is freaking exhausting.

As always, I’m here rooting for you.

Katie

The gift (and importance) of authenticity

Can I admit something?

Sometimes I can be a bit embarrassed about myself. Sometimes I think that I should change and be more social, more productive, more generous, and less emotional. Sometimes I think my body should look different than it does.

But when I run into authentic people, it’s like I can sigh a breath of relief.

I don’t even know how to describe what it is to meet an authentic person — it’s more of the feeling they give off, that vibrant, alive energy. It’s like they are emitting a special frequency, a “ding” that happens when your inner self is in alignment with your outer self…

Do you know what I mean? Whether they are happy or sad or anxious or jazzed up or quiet… when I am with them, their “rightness” is in the air.

It relaxes me.

It reminds me that it’s okay for me to be me, too.

It’s such a gift.

And so, when I find myself wondering if I “should be different,” I remember the best thing I can do is embrace my own authenticity and integrity — as my own gift to the world. So maybe someone else who runs into me will take in a big breath of my energy, and maybe it will help them feel better.

Do you know any people who remind you that it’s okay to be you?

While I’m on maternity leave, I’m sharing some of the best posts from my archives — I hope you enjoy! :)  

I’m still over here rooting for you.

Katie

My favorite poem (and reminder) about being authentic

Here’s something that touches my heart, every time I read it:

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing. 

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive. 

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments. 

(This poem is called “The Invitation,” and is by Oriah Mountain Dreamer).

Is it cheesy? I had a moment of worrying that after I decided to share it with you. But more than anything, I think it might feel a tiny bit cheesy because we’re not used to such open-heartedness and earnestness about what matters. We’re not used to someone saying explicitly, I want to know the real you, and I want you to know me.

You know what? I’ll say it, too. I want to know the real you, and I want you to know me.

Don’t you?

You’ve got this.

Katie