Inauthenticity, me.

Lately, I’ve been diving more into content creation—filming, taking pics, planning ideas—and yet, most of it never sees the light of day I spend like an hour and a half staring at my screen typing and deleting, saving to my drafts and then starting again. Not because I don’t like what I’ve made, but because I talk myself out of sharing it. Majority of the time. Sometimes, it’s because what I’ve made doesn’t even feel like me. It’s what’s trending, yeah. It’s “on brand,” whatever that means I am still not sure. It might get views or likes or whatever. But it’s not real most of the time, It’s this version of me I think people want to see. Like a facetuned yassified version of the real me.

And then other times, it’s the opposite—it’s so real that it completely wigs me out. Like, posting something that shows the actual me feels like shouting “hey here’s everything I am, take whatever you want from it, here’s the map to my soul”. And who wants to deal with the potential criticism that might come with that? It’s way easier to play it safe, post the polished stuff, and keep the rest hidden away.

But the thing is—I’ve noticed this isn’t just a “me” thing. It’s everywhere. Feels like we’re all out here projecting curated versions of ourselves. Every post, every story, every convo, every outfit—like we’re standing in front of a green screen pretending to be the person we think we should be. Existing feels performative and most definitely not a reflection of my true spirit.

Here’s a couple of things that really brought this to light for me.

I started a new job recently and thought, “New chapter, new me and fresh start of sorts.” I changed the way I dressed, filtered what I talked about, kept my opinions to myself, and tried to seem… I don’t even know, more palatable? More professional? Less Liz, and more Elizabeth. I spent the first week pretty quiet, always apologising for asking questions or speaking up. But every night I came home feeling completely disconnected—from my team and from myself.

Because that’s not who I am. I’m loud, curious, I love asking questions, I take up space—and that’s not something I should be ashamed of. But I was scared to let people see that side of me in case I didn’t “fit in.” The kicker is, I never even gave myself the chance to find out if I could fit in, because I wasn’t showing up as me in the first place. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one. There’s a bunch of us who started at the same time, and although I can’t speak for them, I reckon we were all trying to do the same thing—pretend we had it all together, keep the questions to ourselves, stay in our little “I’m-new-here” lane.

But something shifted my first day on the floor. We were finally thrown in the deep end, having to actually do the job, and suddenly all the curtains dropped. Everyone was nervous, unsure, asking heaps of questions—and in that messy, chaotic moment, I felt the most connected I’ve felt since I started. It was real. And I think that’s because when you’re feeling something as intense as fear or anxiety, it’s a lot harder to fake it. For the first time, I felt like I wasn’t alone.

Another thing that hit me was a convo with a mate who opened up about feeling insecure lately. And funnily enough, it was about a part of themselves I’ve always loved—something that made us click in the first place. It made me realise: when we start watering down who we are for the sake of others, we end up not even liking the version of ourselves we’re putting out there. And that’s so sad, because your real self—the one you keep hiding—is the one people are actually drawn to.

I’ve also noticed something interesting: the stuff I’ve shared that has done well—the posts that got the most engagement or made people leave comments and repost —were always the ones I threw up without overthinking. No polish. No big plan. Just raw, unfiltered me about the things I enjoyed. It’s like people can smell inauthenticity a mile away—and in a world where everything is designed to get clicks and views, content and personalities that are algorithm friendly- there are still people out there, who are craving realness and authentic relatability just as much as we are.

So here’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately, and maybe it’s worth you asking too: Are you being authentic? Like, truly. And if not, what are you hiding from—rejection, embarrassment, not being “enough”?

Because if the answer’s no, then I’ll hold your hand when I tell you this: there is literally only one you, and people are gonna hate it, they are gonna be annoyed and possibly talk about you in conversations you never want to be a fly on the wall for, BUT those who get it, will get you! They’ll love you, they’ll connect and understand you. You don’t need a sold-out stadium of strangers clapping for a version of yourself that isn’t even real. You need a smaller room full of people who truly see you, love you, and support you as you are.

So, post the thing. Speak your mind. Wear what feels good. Take up space. Be loud. Be soft. Be whatever the hell you are—because that’s your niche and it will open doors for the rooms you’re supposed to be in.