Embracing Self-Honesty – When “This Is Me” Becomes a Shield

Welcome back Lovely Souls,

“That’s just who I am.”

It’s a phrase many of us have said, thought, or felt at some point. And sometimes, it’s true. Sometimes those words come from a place of hard-earned self-acceptance. They can be a reminder that we no longer need to shrink, perform, or abandon ourselves to make other people comfortable.

But I’ve been thinking lately about the other side of that phrase.

How do we know the difference between when we’re being authentically ourselves, and when we’re using “authentic” as a shield?

I recently wrote about how learning to live authentically can come with discomfort and loneliness at first. There can be a real ache in choosing ourselves when we’re used to choosing for approval or acceptance.

But today, I want to explore the other end of the spectrum. Because sometimes we think we’re being authentic, when really, we may be stuck in a pattern and calling it authenticity to avoid looking more closely.

Ooph.

That’s not always a fun one to admit.
And it’s also deeply human.

We all have blind spots. We all have ways of being that feel so familiar, protective, or justified that we may not recognize them as patterns yet. What if the very thing we call “just who I am” is also the thing keeping us from seeing where we still have room to grow?

For me, defensiveness has been one of those places. I’ve done a lot of inner work around it over the years, and I can genuinely see how much I’ve grown. And still, sometimes I’ll work through one piece of the puzzle only to eventually realize, oh… there’s another one here too.

In the moment, that can feel discouraging. It can feel like, haven’t I already done this work? But I don’t think it means we’ve gone backwards. Growth reveals itself in layers. We don’t always see the next piece until we have enough awareness, capacity, or compassion to meet it.

A few years ago, I went to a retreat in Mexico, and during one of the group shares, the facilitators reflected that they sensed I might still be holding back. It was hard to hear, especially because I felt like I had already been so vulnerable. I had shown up for uncomfortable exercises, shared honestly, stretched myself in ways that felt meaningful, and allowed myself to be seen more than I ever had.

So, when they offered that reflection, part of me felt the sting. The resistance.

What I was able to share in return was, “Yeah, I’m sure I am. I’m just not sure in which ways yet.”

At the time, that felt like one of the kindest and most honest things I could offer myself. I didn’t collapse into shame. I didn’t need to argue that I had already done enough. I could acknowledge that I had shown up to the best of my ability and stayed open to the possibility that there were still layers of protection I wasn’t aware of yet.

That, to me, is the nuance.

Authenticity doesn’t mean we have nothing left to learn. It doesn’t mean every reaction, tone, habit, or pattern is automatically aligned just because it feels natural to us. Sometimes what feels natural is simply what has been practiced the longest. Sometimes what feels like “me” is actually a protective strategy that helped me get through something. And we can honour that without letting it run the show forever.

I’m reminded of a quote from Gabor Maté that says, “Without judgment doesn’t mean without vigilance.” He writes about how “Our personalities are adept at throwing up roadblocks of rationalization when they sense we may be trying to unfasten or even question their hold.” I love that distinction, because self-compassion is essential, but it doesn’t mean we stop paying attention. Without judgment doesn’t mean without honesty, and without shame doesn’t mean without accountability. Sometimes the patterns that feel most like “me” are also the ones most protected by explanation.

I know for myself, defensiveness can feel so familiar that it almost convinces me it’s simply part of who I am. It can sound like clarity. Like, I’m just explaining myself. And sometimes, there is truth in that. But if I slow down enough to notice how tightly I’m holding the explanation, I can often feel there’s something underneath it. Something that wants to be understood, protected, or proven. Understanding that doesn’t mean I need to shame myself or shrink myself. But it does invite me to ask whether my response was aligned with my values, and whether I can stay open to how it may have landed.

Perhaps that’s where authenticity becomes more honest. Not when we use, “this is just who I am,” to close the door, but when we let it become a starting point for curiosity.

A few honest reflections for when “this is me” shows up:

• Am I expressing myself, or defending myself? There’s a difference between standing in our truth and needing to prove that our reaction was justified.

• Does this feel aligned with my values, or familiar to my nervous system? Sometimes a pattern feels true simply because it’s well-practiced.

• Can I understand why I reacted this way without excusing the impact? Context matters, and so does responsibility.

• What feels hard to admit here? Often the part we most want to explain away is the part asking for our compassion and attention.

• Can I stay open without turning against myself? Growth requires honesty, but it does not require harshness.

Authenticity is not a fixed identity we arrive at once and defend forever. Like any relationship, it works best when we stay curious.
We can have protective parts and still choose not to let them lead every interaction. We can have quirks that feel true to us, even if other people don’t understand them. We can show up in ways that feel honest and still acknowledge the impact those choices may have on someone else.

That balance isn’t always easy. Sometimes we are being true to ourselves, and someone else may still feel hurt, uncomfortable, or disappointed. That doesn’t automatically mean we did something wrong. But it can still be worth asking: Can I honour what felt true for me while staying open to how it landed for them?

Maybe authenticity becomes more grounded when it has room for both self-acceptance and self-reflection. When we can honour who we are today, while staying curious about the parts of ourselves we haven’t fully met yet, so “this is me” doesn’t quietly become a shield.

Because “this is me” can be a beautiful declaration.And sometimes, it can also be an invitation to look a little closer.

With heartfelt gratitude,
Christina