How Wonderful It Would Be to Simply Be Yourself - As a Therapist too

How wonderful would it be to simply be yourself—and realize that who you are is enough? Maybe even more than enough. Maybe it's exactly what the right people appreciate.

I've often caught myself wearing different kinds of masks. A mask of professionalism, for example. Pretending to find something funny when I didn't. Showing interest when, in reality, I wasn't interested at all. Many people know this feeling. It seems surprisingly difficult to simply be ourselves.

Why is that? Why do we sometimes feel guilty for being who we are, as if we've done something wrong simply because we feel what we feel?

Of course, there are many things about myself that I struggle with. I have insecurities, weaknesses, and parts of myself I wish I could change. But perhaps we're also so hard on ourselves because we know our own inner world, while we only ever see the outside of everyone else.

Most of My Jobs Never Really Felt Like Me

Looking back, I probably hid behind a mask the most in my earlier jobs, before I started working in mental health. I've worked in hospitals and even in a prison as a psychologist. Before that, I had several part-time jobs while I was in college. I once worked at a bakery and got fired because I ate too much cheesecake. I waited tables at a sushi restaurant and ended up arguing with my manager during one of my shifts. I also worked as a cashier at Lidl—which, surprisingly, I actually enjoyed.

But all of those jobs had one thing in common: I pretended to care more than I actually did. I acted interested. I acted engaged. If money had somehow appeared from a mysterious source, I probably wouldn't have done any of those jobs. If I had grown up with unlimited financial security, I might not have worked at all.

That naturally raises another question: Does that mean everything I do is inauthentic? Even my work as an online psychologist?

Honestly, I don't know. Maybe if money didn't matter, I'd open an animal sanctuary. Or maybe I'd spend the rest of my life lying on a beach in Hawaii.

Does a Life That Truly Fits Us Even Exist?

Perhaps there isn't a life that aligns perfectly with who we are. Maybe expecting that isn't realistic. But one thing seems true: we don't get any closer to that life by constantly performing a role.

I once heard someone say that a job probably isn't the right fit if you have to lie during the interview to get it. I sometimes wonder whether that applies to my own work as well. If I had to pretend to be exceptionally confident, emotionally flawless, or somehow perfect in order for people to trust me, then perhaps those wouldn't be the right clients for me.

And maybe perfection isn't actually what creates trust.

Therapists Are Human Too

I'm a very imperfect person, and I've stopped wanting to pretend that I always have everything together. Therapists are human beings too. We have doubts, difficult days, insecurities, and moments when we feel overwhelmed. We simply care enough about this work to keep showing up anyway.

From my own experience as a psychologist, I can tell you that I also have bad days. I question myself. I feel sad sometimes. I get anxious. And yet, I still believe I can help people.

Maybe those things don't weaken my work. Maybe they strengthen it. Because many of the struggles my clients bring into our conversations aren't things I've only studied in textbooks—they're experiences I recognize in myself as well.

Perhaps Authenticity Is Healing in Itself

My work is about helping people create meaningful change in their lives. And perhaps part of that process is realizing that therapists don't have perfect lives either. We're all working on something.

For me, that means learning to be more authentic and feeling less pressure to appear perfect. Sometimes I'm tired. Sometimes I'm unmotivated. Sometimes I don't immediately like every person I meet. Sometimes I simply don't feel like smiling.

And perhaps I don't need to change those parts of myself, as long as I'm willing to see them honestly instead of pretending they aren't there.

Maybe that's where something important begins: the moment you realize that you don't have to become someone else before you're allowed to be enough.