I am in my second month on Substack. Every time I post, I have to overcome self-doubt and anxiety. I guess I am struggling with a bit of impostor syndrome, especially after seeing all the intelligent and accomplished people here. It’s difficult, but I post anyway.
Man, I get it. That self-doubt? It’s a beast. But here’s the thing: every time you hit “post,” you’re not just sharing content, you’re rewiring your brain to believe it’s safe to be seen. That’s huge. And let me tell you, those “intelligent and accomplished” people? They’ve got their own battles too. Keep showing up. The courage to post anyway? That’s what makes you stand out.
I’ve just been mulling over this very thing discussed in your post. I realised I probably could have been an Oscar winner having spent my life as an actor every single day and not being the real me for fear that people wouldn’t like the real me. I’ll be the people pleaser, the outrageous bonhomie, the quiet introvert but few ever get to see me. To no honest, I’m still not sure who that is but maybe messy real me is better than half a century of pretending. It’s very wearing for starters.
Half a century of pretending? That’s heavy. But here’s the deal: "messy, real you" is the only version that can truly connect with others. People don’t bond with perfection, no matter what we believe, they bond with truth.
Start small. Share a piece of that messy, unpolished self, and watch what happens. It’s not just freeing, it’s magnetic.
Andy - A tip of my hat. Thanks for the compassionate invitation to step into our truths, whatever they may be. You speak to the longing and ambivalence many of us have a hard time understanding let along continuing to carry. I get it's our nervous system’s attempt to protect us from the cost of being seen. And yet, as you so poignantly lay out, healing begins the moment we risk showing up anyway. Your words remind us that vulnerability is an act of service, a path to connection and sometimes the beginning of liberation. Thank you for this steadying and soulful call.
Bronce, your comment means a lot. Thank you for seeing the heart behind the words and for reflecting back such thoughtful insights. That ambivalence you mentioned, the nervous system’s way of protecting us, yeah, it’s a tricky dance, isn’t it?
But you’re right, healing starts when we risk showing up anyway. Your words remind me why I write in the first place: to connect, to invite, and maybe, just maybe, to help someone else find their own path to liberation.
What’s been the most surprising thing you’ve learned about yourself through vulnerability?
I am in my second month on Substack. Every time I post, I have to overcome self-doubt and anxiety. I guess I am struggling with a bit of impostor syndrome, especially after seeing all the intelligent and accomplished people here. It’s difficult, but I post anyway.
Man, I get it. That self-doubt? It’s a beast. But here’s the thing: every time you hit “post,” you’re not just sharing content, you’re rewiring your brain to believe it’s safe to be seen. That’s huge. And let me tell you, those “intelligent and accomplished” people? They’ve got their own battles too. Keep showing up. The courage to post anyway? That’s what makes you stand out.
I’ve just been mulling over this very thing discussed in your post. I realised I probably could have been an Oscar winner having spent my life as an actor every single day and not being the real me for fear that people wouldn’t like the real me. I’ll be the people pleaser, the outrageous bonhomie, the quiet introvert but few ever get to see me. To no honest, I’m still not sure who that is but maybe messy real me is better than half a century of pretending. It’s very wearing for starters.
Half a century of pretending? That’s heavy. But here’s the deal: "messy, real you" is the only version that can truly connect with others. People don’t bond with perfection, no matter what we believe, they bond with truth.
Start small. Share a piece of that messy, unpolished self, and watch what happens. It’s not just freeing, it’s magnetic.
Andy - A tip of my hat. Thanks for the compassionate invitation to step into our truths, whatever they may be. You speak to the longing and ambivalence many of us have a hard time understanding let along continuing to carry. I get it's our nervous system’s attempt to protect us from the cost of being seen. And yet, as you so poignantly lay out, healing begins the moment we risk showing up anyway. Your words remind us that vulnerability is an act of service, a path to connection and sometimes the beginning of liberation. Thank you for this steadying and soulful call.
Bronce, your comment means a lot. Thank you for seeing the heart behind the words and for reflecting back such thoughtful insights. That ambivalence you mentioned, the nervous system’s way of protecting us, yeah, it’s a tricky dance, isn’t it?
But you’re right, healing starts when we risk showing up anyway. Your words remind me why I write in the first place: to connect, to invite, and maybe, just maybe, to help someone else find their own path to liberation.
What’s been the most surprising thing you’ve learned about yourself through vulnerability?