Authenticity, for me, isn’t a fixed essence.
It’s a commitment — a willingness to develop an authentic self through ongoing self-awareness, reflection, and integration. It’s not something you arrive at; it’s something you return to, again and again.

I often know when I’ve acted authentically because it just feels right. It’s hard to explain logically, but it’s as if everything inside me aligns — my thoughts, emotions, and values. One example was this morning, walking my dog. A man who had once shouted at me for letting her off-lead had his own dog off-lead, and it came running up to us. In the past, I might have tried to people-please or smooth things over. But this time, I simply held my ground and moved away. I didn’t feel the need to explain or engage. I trusted myself to act in a way that honoured my boundary. Whether he interpreted it how I intended didn’t matter — I felt peace with my choice, and that peace was my sign of authenticity.

At other times, authenticity looks different. Yesterday, at the dentist, I chose to be slightly inauthentic. I smiled, made small talk, and said, “How are you?” — even though, truthfully, I didn’t feel like it. But I made that choice consciously. I knew it would make the interaction smoother for both of us, and I didn’t abandon myself by doing it. If I’d walked through in silence and avoided eye contact, it might have felt “truer,” but it wouldn’t have served the moment. So I see conscious masking not as self-betrayal, but as an act of compassion for both myself and others — a practical expression of social awareness.

I notice that when I’m out of alignment, resentment often appears afterwards. I’ll feel it as heat in my body, or a kind of inner discomfort — a sign I’ve acted against what felt true. Conversely, when I’m around people who are safe, open, and non-judgmental, my authenticity flows naturally. My body relaxes. I can shift between topics, be vulnerable one moment and grounded the next, without fear of how it’s received.

The difficult part is when authenticity creates friction. That’s where the work begins.
Those moments test whether what felt authentic in the moment still feels right afterwards. You get to review and ask: Would I act the same way again? This kind of reflection helps me discern between a reactive emotional response and a truly authentic one. If I’ve thought about something deeply before acting — like setting a boundary I’ve weighed carefully — I can trust it. But if I act purely from emotion, without reflection, it’s often reactivity. Reflection afterwards allows me to learn from that and grow closer to my authentic self next time.

Authenticity, to me, isn’t about doing what feels good in the moment.
It’s about acting with integrity — aligning what I think, feel, and do — while balancing empathy, harmony, and awareness of others. I think each person defines that balance for themselves. Sometimes we get it wrong, and that’s okay. The key is to hold it with non-judgment, because testing out who you are is an ongoing process that requires gentleness with yourself.

Authenticity without empathy can become self-indulgent. It’s easy to justify behaviour as “authentic” when it might actually be projection or unprocessed anger. That’s why reflection is essential. It’s not about perfection — it’s about noticing, sitting with the discomfort, and discerning whether the action came from your truth or from a wound.

I don’t believe anyone can ever be fully authentic, at least not in a static sense.
Being authentic is the commitment — the ongoing process of becoming more integrated and self-aware. It requires safety, but that safety can be developed internally through self-trust. Every time I honour myself — by not abandoning my needs, by reflecting after difficult moments, by integrating what I learn — I build that trust a little more.

You can often tell you’re masking by how drained you feel afterwards. Sometimes you notice it in the moment too, that subtle “off” feeling in your body. Over time, that awareness grows. Masking consciously can be an act of self-care, while unconscious masking often leads to disconnection and fatigue.

For me, embracing authenticity is not about tearing off every mask, but about knowing why you wear them — and choosing when to put them down.

Authenticity is awareness in action.
It’s the daily commitment to honour your truth, reflect on your missteps, integrate what you learn, and begin again. It’s not about being perfectly real — it’s about being courageously in process.

Reflection Prompts

  • How do I know, in my body, when I’m acting authentically?
  • When does my authenticity create friction, and what can I learn from that?
  • How can I mask consciously, with compassion, rather than unconsciously out of fear?
  • What does embracing authenticity look like for me today?