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Unfolding The Self: The Quiet Courage of Authenticity

Today we live in a world that it layered with subterfuge. The simplicity and rawness of years gone by have been replaced with this growing world of alternate reality. Every little aspect of life is documented and devoured, celebrated but also offered up as fodder to the masses. 


The Pressure to Conform

From the minute of conception there is often an intense overlay of observation, and as time goes by, a pressure of how the unborn may live, breathe and be - according to what is trending, what is popular, and what is perceived to be "the right way". Under the guise of freedom and choice, we have become more trapped than we have ever been before.

Whether it is through religion, woke ideology, freedom-seeking alternatives, traditional or cultural values-based thinking, we walk into this world with less ability to just be our raw and authentic selves. At every turn, we are offered narratives, roles, and labels that quickly begin to layer over the core of who we are - often before we've even had a chance to meet that person ourselves. 


Who Am I, Really?

As I search for my authentic self during this time of deep change - this peri-menopausal/menopausal unravelling - I can see the many layers that have slowly and carefully bound themselves around me. Some were placed with the best of intentions, others imposed with silent violence, and still others I wove myself, not knowing any better. It leaves me questioning everything I know to be true about myself. Did I become who I am through my own blossoming of personality? Or did I become who I am because I believed everything I was told about myself?

Even now, in my third age, people feel it's ok to declare who I am. They tell what I like, what I will choose, what I can and cannot do. Sometimes it's subtle - a gentle "you've always been like this" or "that's just your way". Other times it's bold, insistent, and filled with assumptions that leave no space for nuance or growth. 


What makes us believe we hold the key to another human being's unfolding?

Authenticity has become a buzzword, but in truth, it's more of a reckoning. To live authentically is not to plaster yourself with curated individuality - it is the opposite. It is a stripping back, a rawness, a returning. It is remembering who you were before the world told you who to be. 

Shedding the Armour

In this season of my life, as my hormones shift, and my energy fluctuates, I find myself peeling away from identities I once clung to. The good girl. The rebel. The peacemaker. The over-achiever. The one who "just gets on with it". These roles helped me survive - but they're not who I am. They are echoes of what others needed me to be. Now, they feel like armour that no longer fits. 

And it is not without grief. Authenticity requires letting go of what has been - of who we thought we were. It requires silence. Stillness. The kind of internal listening that often only comes after years of living too loudly for others. 


When I think of my children, of the generations before and after me, I wonder: what would it look like if we taught our children to stay close to their truest selves? What if we nurtured their knowing instead of replacing it with stories of what is acceptable, desirable, or safe?

The Sacred Return

The truth is many of us weren't raised to know ourselves. We were raised to be liked, to be useful, to keep others comfortable. So the process of reconnecting to our authenticity feels unfamiliar, even selfish. But it is not selfish to become who you truly are, it is sacred. 

Authenticity does not mean we are perfect, nor that we never wear masks. It means we are aware. It means we notice when the mask is on, and we gently question why. It means we give ourselves permission to change our minds. It means we stop apologising for evolving. 

Some days my authentic self is loud and rebellious. Other days, she is tired, tender, and invisible. Both are true. Both are worthy. 


In the pages of Mama Madhya, I've explored themes of generational healing, the power of the feminine body, the cycles we inherit and carry. This blog is no different - it is an extension of that work. Because what is authenticity, if not the reclaiming of the stories we were never allowed to write for ourselves?

So today, I sit with the discomfort and beauty of unbecoming. I let myself ask the hard questions. I make peace with the layers. I honour who I've been, and I make space for who I am still becoming. 

May we all be brave enough to meet ourselves again. 





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