Hidden

Most people have two personalities: the "real" us and the "work" us.

At the job, it's strictly professional and courteous, and helpful. We take on challenges thinking about our strategic stakeholders and put on that air of confidence that shows others you are truly the leader you are.

Then we have that real person inside is who, when faced with that ONE co-worker who knows exactly how to jump on that last nerve who wants to cut someone and let the pieces fall where they may. This person is much more sensitive. This peronalitly is more true to our true nature.

For me, those two personalities have two different names. My first name is my "work" personality. My middle name is who I am. It is a security blanket and it is who I wish I was. When I introduce myself to new people, I always use my first name. But growing up, my family introduced me to others by my middle name. So, I know who I am talking to based on the name you refer to me. But when I'm talking to myself, I'm always talking to my middle name.

She is the core of who I am and my past traumas. Oddly, the most impactful traumas that have happened to me in my entire life have happened to my middle name. She is the kid version of me that is unpolished, unsure, terrified, and reserved. She is the demon in my head, reminding me that I am nothing.

But I hide this and don't show it to anyone. I wrap her in the facade of my first name. Regal in nature, this name is the definition of victory. It is the girl who has overcome so many obstacles and has come out smelling like a rose. But this person is a lie.

The real me comes home every night (meteorically since we're in a pandemic) and takes off the masks of confidence, calm, strength, and intelligence. She's left with her true self that no one sees.

Recently, I was talking to a friend of mine who totally gets this dual nature concept. She and I are VERY close and I love her more like a sister. She asked if she was allowed to call me my middle name. I stopped and said I never even thought of it, but I could feel and thought that I am still hiding from her. But I don't know why I can't bring myself to tell her. I know she will totally understand and perhaps have a better sense of how I think but it literally turns my stomach in knots. My stomach is in knots now and just thinking about it. Those fears of rejection come flooding back and I cannot do that again. The last fracture didn't heal correctly. But hiding is so comfortable and safe.

I'm not ready to come out of hiding. But I fear, the darkness keeps those wounds fresh. The darkness keeps those wounds from healing like they should. It suffocates me, but I'm used to not breathing, right?