The Gap

I want to tell you something that took me a long time to say out loud. I stood in front of rooms full of people and talked about showing up authentically, about the cost of performing, about the freedom that comes from letting people see who you actually are. I believed every word I was saying. And the whole time, I was terrified. Not of the room. Of being seen. Of someone noticing that the person teaching this was still figuring it out herself. So I performed certainty I didn't always feel. I had a gap. And the gap cost me — in energy, in connection, in the exhaustion of maintaining two versions of myself. The gap closed over time. Not all at once. In pieces. And when it closed — that's when everything changed. Not because people suddenly liked me more. Because I stopped using energy to maintain two versions of myself.