They say addiction is a progressive disease. I think hiding is the progressive disease that likely leads to addiction. Suppression of our truest selves, in any way, slowly suffocates until all that’s left is our fearful core.
Why do we hide and what are we hiding from? I can only speak for my own experience and it’s only now, as I write, that I explore my reasons for hiding. It’s dreading that which I cannot control because I do not yet know what it is. In other words, fear of the unknown. Risk. I spent many years working hard to appear confident when inside I rattled with worry. Worried about how my voice sounded when I spoke up in class and that the words would never come out right. I worried about parking spots and phone calls with the same intensity that I feared I wouldn’t find my place in the world. I understood this type of worry as weak, the cardinal sin of my youth, so early on I decided to hide my fear. Successful people aren’t scared so I decided I wouldn’t be either.
I was hiding from the world. Hiding from the truest parts of myself. In a world that values those who have it all together – women with quiet confidence and seductive smiles – I found it safer to silently conform. It was more comfortable to be a version of myself and appear strong than to risk being vulnerable enough to meet who I was. I wrapped authenticity in leather layers of “fine” and let those who loved me believe it.
“I know something about dread myself, and appreciate the elaborate systems with which some people fill the void, appreciate all the opiates of the people, whether they are as accessible as alcohol and heroin and promiscuity or as hard to come by as faith in God or History.”
― Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
While I was slowly killing the parts of me that questioned, I was also suppressing all that makes me beautiful and unique. The pain I thought was from the world was actually my authentic self gnawing through what bound her. So, I shut her up with pills and booze each time I felt her surface. Eventually neither of us knew how to breathe without them.
My life telescoped down to the next fix. The void seemed smaller, scary still, but somehow, I was still afraid. I got unstuck and I realize now it was the lies. The lies I told myself about who I was and what I deserved. The narrative that no one cared what I had to say. I only replaced one type of dread with another, the fear of the unknown with the reality of what was. The reality that I didn’t have it all together. That in fact, I was full of fear, and I needed help.
This is the part of my story that always amazes me. Somehow, inside, I survived. And somehow, outside, the world was full of people who cared. People who love the weird way I rattle off words when I get excited. Friends who check in when they see me start to hide and family who remind me that my mind and thoughts are valued. Women who support me when I struggle with doubt, girls who stop me to say, “you’re beautiful,” and strangers who encourage me to share my truth.
The point is – we don’t have to have it all together, and we don’t have to explain why. We aren’t alone, and even when we try to hide, someone somewhere cares. It’s overwhelming if I really stop to realize how connected we are, and how kind people can be. The universe has a funny way of showing us our size if only we’re willing to look at our truth.
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One response to “Progressive hiding and how connection saved my life.”
Love ya mate x