I’ve been thinking about mirrors lately. Not the kind that show us whether our hair is cooperating or if we have spinach in our teeth, but the invisible ones we encounter every day — those moments when life holds up a reflection of who we really are, like when we’re faced with a difficult decision, or when we’re in a challenging situation that tests our character, and we have to decide whether to look or look away.

Truth, I’ve discovered, is never convenient. It arrives uninvited, like rain on a picnic, and asks us to acknowledge what we’d rather ignore. Yet paradoxically, it’s also the most liberating force we’ll ever encounter.

The Weight of Pretense

We’re all carrying around invisible backpacks filled with pretense. Mine used to be so heavy that I developed emotional scoliosis. For years, I told people I was “fine” when I was drowning, “busy” when I was avoiding, and “happy” when I was barely treading water. Each lie was a stone added to the pack, until one day I realized I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to stand up straight.

The irony is that we wear masks to protect ourselves, but they often become the prisons we’re trying to escape. We’re terrified that if people see the real us — messy, uncertain, beautifully broken — they’ll run. But here’s what I’ve learned: the people who run when you remove your mask are the same people who would have left eventually anyway. The ones who stay? They’re the ones waiting for you to show up authentically.

The Oracle Speaks

Truth comes in layers, like an emotional onion that makes us cry as we peel it. There’s the truth we tell our therapists, the truth we admit to our best friends, and the truth we whisper to ourselves at 3 AM when the world is quiet enough to hear our hearts.

Then there’s the capital-T Truth, which is the ultimate truth that exists beyond our stories and interpretations. It’s true that love exists even when relationships end, that growth requires discomfort, and that our carefully constructed identities are just elaborate costumes we wear to the cosmic masquerade ball.

When Love Requires Honesty

I once watched a relationship implode because two people spent so much energy managing each other’s impressions of them that they forgot actually to see each other. They were like actors performing different plays on the same stage, wondering why their lines never seemed to match.

Real intimacy begins when we stop editing ourselves for palatability. It starts with saying “I’m scared” instead of “I’m fine,” or “I miss you” instead of pretending you don’t care. It requires us to risk being misunderstood to be truly known.

The most profound conversations begin with someone brave enough to say, “Can I tell you something true?” These words are like magic incantations that create sacred space for vulnerability.

The Prosperity of Authenticity

Here’s something our culture doesn’t talk about enough: living authentically is one of the most financially dangerous things you can do. It means you might leave that soul-crushing job to pursue your art. It means you might say no to opportunities that pay well but feel wrong.

But here’s the paradox. Eventually, authenticity becomes the most profitable path. Just not in the way you expect. When you align with your truth, you stop wasting energy pretending to be someone else. That freed energy becomes available for creation, connection, and contribution. You might find that your work becomes more fulfilling, your relationships more meaningful, and your life more joyful.

I know artists who made more money once they stopped trying to paint what they thought would sell and started painting what made their souls sing. I know healers whose practices flourished when they stopped following formulas and started trusting their intuition.

The Courage to Be Seen

Truth requires courage, not the cape-wearing, building-leaping kind, but the quiet courage to show up as yourself in a world that profits from your insecurity. It’s the courage to say “I don’t know” in a room full of experts, cry when you’re sad instead of alone, and celebrate your wins without diminishing them.

This kind of honesty is contagious. When you permit yourself to be gloriously imperfect, you allow others, too. Suddenly, conversations become real. Relationships deepen. The world becomes a little more bearable because there’s more truth in it.

Your Mirror’s Gift

So I invite you to look in the mirror—not the bathroom one, but the one life is holding up to you right now. What is it showing you? What truth is asking to be spoken? What mask is ready to be retired?

Remember, the truth isn’t about being harsh or brutal. It’s about being willing to see, to speak kindly and honestly, and to live aligned with what matters most to you.

Your truth—messy, imperfect, and utterly human—is a gift in a world full of filters and facades. It’s the gift of your authentic self to a world desperately needing real people living real lives. Here’s to removing the masks, one brave conversation at a time.