Trapped in a battle that's invisible to everyone else, a war rages beneath the surface, hidden from prying eyes. All others can see is the mask I wear, the projection of confidence and calm. They hear the tone and voice, but they can't hear the screams of self-doubt and fear that echo through my mind.
I've struggled to find my place in the world, feeling like I'm living in the shadows, unseen and unheard. The weight of this struggle is crushing at times, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. It's a gnawing sense of inadequacy that threatens to consume me whole.
Fighting back, I'm slowly, painfully emerging into sight, learning to see myself, hear my own voice, and feel my own emotions. It's a terrifying and liberating experience all at once.
Looking deeper, I realize that I've been held hostage by the opinions of others, seeking validation, recognition, and appreciation. But this desire has made me susceptible to the whims of others. When I'm praised, I'm elevated; when I'm criticized, I'm crushed.
This is a false narrative. My worth and value come from within. I'm learning to disconnect from external validation and find my own sense of purpose and self-worth.
As I share these thoughts and feelings, I'm aware that I may be seeking validation from others. I may be hoping for reassurance, empathy, or praise. But I'm trying to approach this sharing with authenticity and vulnerability, rather than with the expectation of receiving validation.
Perhaps that's the greatest challenge of all – to share our true selves without attachment to how others may respond. To emerge into sight, not for the validation of others, but for the sake of our own freedom and growth.
“In Plain Sight” will probably be the next expression in this series, however, this emergence into sight may not require a written testament at all. Perhaps the greatest indicator of growth is not in the writing, but in the forgetting – forgetting the struggle, forgetting the doubt, and forgetting the need for external validation. In this sense, In Plain Sight may not be a destination, but a state of being – one that is lived, not written.
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