Cringe.

On masking a lifetime of humiliation and shame

My biggest fear is someone I know finding out who I really am, confronting me about it, exposing me to mutual acquaintances, and thereby forcing me to disappear from the face of the earth.

I act like I have done terrible things in life and have a dark past to hide. Some of them were things that happened to me, others were things that I could have avoided had I been more discerning, and all of them get ruminated a hundred times over because “I should have known better.”

Being mocked in front of my peers and not realizing just how utterly humiliating it was until much later.
Pursuing something I was “supposed” to do for years and being unable to shake the undeniable feeling of imposter syndrome.
Devoting myself to a job only to be accused of doing something I did not do and losing my career spark altogether.
Being betrayed after trusting someone with sensitive information and losing trust in my own judgment.

None of them were terrible. I’m sure everyone goes through events like this at some point in their lives. Most repent and learn from them. Objectively, these are tests put forth to question my path and live life more authentically. They’re important in building character. But at a personal, emotional level, they have made me retreat further into my cave where no one can hurt me.

At my core, I am ashamed of who I am. Of all the mistakes I have made and the mistakes I have yet to make. Of wanting to pursue life on my own terms but always being a closeted ____ until I feel like I am good enough to declare it publicly — which has not happened in forever, of course. Why can I respect and admire others who do the same, but look down on myself at any attempt to be that person?

This is the recurring theme in my life, in all my journal entries and inner monologues.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

From the beginning, I knew I wanted to be anonymous.

It wasn’t that I feared accidentally posting something that would get me eternally cancelled, as we see happen every so often. It was the fear of the opposite — that I would be cancelled in real life, and that the internet would become the only place I could turn to.

But the internet is only safe if it remains separate from my real life.

And so I found myself in a self-imposed severance — except my innie and outie are fully aware of each other’s existence, co-conspirators ensuring that everyone else stays severed. What is this life that I have created?

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

As I sat with the idea of expanding into long-form videos (again) and blogging (again), I questioned my choices once more.

An anonymous online presence means I can disappear when I want, whenever I want. I don’t owe anyone an explanation, especially since you don’t know me in real life. At least, that’s what I tell myself when the insecurities take over and everything collapses into tunnel vision.

Need to disappear for a bit to venture down a completely new path I don’t want anyone to know? Pretend I don’t exist online and leave.

Need to step away for an indeterminate amount of time to sit with my own feelings? Delete the apps and touch grass.

As someone who grew up anxiously attached to those around me, I may be the most avoidant person I know. It’s like blocking the person that displeased you, except that instead of selectively blocking someone else, I am blocking myself from the world. Genius.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Did I ever think I would be in my late 20s trauma-dumping on the internet as a coping mechanism and creative outlet? No. But one thing I promised myself when I started posting online was that I would be unapologetically myself.

As cringey as it still feels to be and express who I am — if not here, then where?