I started leading a double life early on. Starting in elementary school, I needed to be one person at school, and another person at home and at church. (This is not a recipe for living authentically.)

The demands of the doomsday cult known as the Worldwide Church of God and the demands of public school were very different, but as a confirmed good girl I did my best in both worlds.

But I still remember the day that those worlds collided.

It happened at a Christmas concert when I was perhaps 8 years old. I stood on the risers with my class and sang “Jingle Bells” and at first everything was OK.

“Jingle Bells” didn’t mention Christmas or Santa (which were considered pagan and worldly by the church), so I figured that was fine.

But when the class launched into “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” I had a problem. I couldn’t bring myself to sing along – not with my parents in the audience – but I also couldn’t make a big deal out of not singing because my teacher would notice.

So I lip-synced along with the class until we switched to a “safe” song.

As I stood on the risers, I felt so strange. Part of me felt proud that I’d come up with a way to walk the line in both worlds. But the rest of me felt a deep sense of loneliness.

And while I’m guessing you didn’t have this exact experience, you probably do know how I felt in that moment. You probably know what it’s like to lead a double life.

Tell me if this sounds familiar: You show up as strong and capable, but deep down you’re suffering. Sometimes the divide between who you are and who you pretend to be is obvious.

For example, maybe you’re so done with your current job. Every workday it’s draining the life out of you. You know it’s time leave and start the creative business you’ve been dreaming of, but you’re scared to try.

So you push yourself to be productive at work so no one will know how much you want to leave. As a result, you do well and people tell you how much they need you there. This only makes you feel more guilty, and more stuck.

In my work with coaching clients, I’ve noticed that their secret suffering often gets worse the more they succeed professionally.

(Of course, it’s not the success itself that’s the problem; it’s the widening gap between how things look on the outside and how they feel on the inside.)

But the divide also shows up in everyday moments.

You finish the leftovers when you don’t even like the dish.
You put on the pants that never really fit, while telling yourself that they should.
You stay on the phone call much longer than you actually want to.
You volunteer when you’re already running on caffeine and adrenaline.

But why is this a problem, exactly? What’s wrong with going against your truth in order to make people happy?

Why is living authentically important?

Here’s the thing: we can’t go against our truth without consequences. In my experience, small breaches of integrity feel worse over time. When we’re living like secret agents, we get shaky. We’re not living on solid ground, and it shows.

Let me tell you about a time I saw this shakiness play out in a pretty extreme way.

One day I walked into my counselor’s office and sat down in the waiting area just as the prior client passed out on the carpet. I stepped forward to help her, but our counselor got there first.

In a moment the woman came to, and started sobbing. As our counselor held her, I noticed that the woman on the ground was wearing the same shorts as I was.

She was also wearing bright white sneakers – the kind of glowing shoes one only achieves either through a) never wearing them or b) deep perfectionism.

Chills ran up my spine. I understood on a visceral level that that woman weeping on the floor could have been me. That in some sense, she WAS me.

Though of course I didn’t know her story, I sensed what she was going through. She had struggled through a life that wasn’t true enough for her, and her body was shouting:

NO MORE OF THIS.
YOU WILL FEEL THE TRUTH OF YOUR LIFE.
I WILL BRING YOU TO THE GROUND IF THAT’S WHAT IT TAKES.

And though my counselor was apologetic about the crisis cutting into my session time, I told her that what I’d witnessed WAS therapeutic.

It was a powerful reminder that, as Cheryl Strayed wrote, “The truth that lives [in the core] will eventually win out. It’s a god we must obey, a force that brings us all inevitably to our knees.”

Seeing that woman brought to the ground got me thinking about the ways in which we disconnect from ourselves, and how much that disconnection costs us.

It got me thinking about the divide between what’s most important to us, and how we actually spend our days. Between what we’re actually feeling, and the faces we present to the world.

I call this pattern “pressing the override button on your truth.”

How can we tell if we’re doing this?

Signs you are not living an authentic life

First, it feels bad!

When we keep pressing the override button on our truth, we lose our sense of purpose. This is the first sign of what Dr. Martha Beck calls, “dark wood of error syndrome” in her excellent book The Way of Integrity.

From there, high-functioning hopelessness starts running the show. We do the things we’re “supposed to” do, but there’s no joy.

We get depressed and anxious, even pick up an addiction. If we keep going, this way of living can bring us to the ground. Sometimes, that’s what it takes for us to take our emotional pain seriously.

Having coached hundreds of people over the years (and spent many hundreds of hours being coached myself), I’ve noticed a pattern.

It’s easy for us to see the risk of change. It’s easy to focus on the risk in getting support, changing jobs, or saying farewell to a dysfunctional relationship.

But we blind ourselves to the risks of remaining where we are. We ignore the cost of NOT changing.

We refuse to ask powerful questions, such as, “What is this way of living costing me? How much longer am I willing to live someone else’s life?”

I’m here for the moment when everything in your soul says: Enough already. I need to live true to myself.

How can I make my life authentic?

In order to return home to ourselves, we must live our truth. It’s that simple. And, it’s a demanding process. It requires that we build what Dr. Dina Glouberman calls our “living truthfully muscle.”

But doing this work is incredibly, incalculably rewarding.

I see it happen every day. In coaching, I help people who are really good at doing what they’re “supposed to” do, start doing what they’re MEANT to do. When they learn to free themselves from the weight of expectations, they experience joy, relaxation, and simple pleasure.

They do work they love, and they do it well, yet they also have plenty of downtime.
They turn down food they don’t want, and they wear pants that fit.
They hear themselves ending a phone call with, “I need to get my day underway.”
They sit in stillness and feel peaceful. They know who they are.

After all those shaky years as a secret agent, such quiet confidence feels revolutionary.

You might be thinking, That sounds amazing…but it also feels way out of reach right now. If so, I get where you’re coming from. Let me give you a specific, practical way to get started right now.

Authentic life exercise

First, identify an aspect of your life that doesn’t feel good. Where are you most uncomfortable? Where are you suffering? When I did this exercise recently, I picked, “going to birthday parties with my kids.”

(I love my kids, and I strongly dislike kids’ birthday parties. The noise, the chaos, the way little kids randomly fall off their chairs and you need to try and catch them before they hit the floor…it all combines to equal sensory overload.)

Next, identify the belief that is keeping you feeling stuck in this area. In other words: What belief has brought you to this point? What’s been keeping things the way they are?

Especially look for the words should, ought, or must. These words point to internal rules.

For example, my belief was, “I must sacrifice myself so my kids can have what they need.”

From there, use the scientific method on your own thoughts and beliefs. When you’re going into an old belief loop, first notice it. Gently recognize, OK, this is basically my brain re-running an old hypothesis.

I notice that when I use this thought framework/hypothesis, I do not get the results I want. I feel miserable and victimized, instead of confident and loving.

Lastly, we test a new hypothesis! We adopt a new belief, try it on, and see how it fits.

(The exercise above is inspired by RET, The Work of Byron Katie, and Dr. Martha Beck.)

This video takes you through the process of identifying limiting beliefs; I also share a story about quitting my job in a big way.

 

For me, the new hypothesis was: “I care for myself while I care for my kids.” I’ll tell you how that played out in a moment, but first, let me address a common objection that comes up in coaching.

If it’s hard for you to feel that you have the right to do things differently – that you have permission to test a new hypothesis – try using this image.

Imagine that you’re a doctor, and a patient has come to your office and saying, “This part of my body hurts, and I need help.”

As the doctor, you wouldn’t say, “Oh well, sorry, there’s nothing we can do.” Instead, you would ask the patient questions to learn more. You’d take a look at the hurting part of their body, then consider various possible interventions.

As the doctor, you would make adjustments and do things differently, because you have a person in front of you who is suffering and needs care.

The task here, for you, for me, for all of us, is to see ourselves as both parties. We are both the physician and the patient. We are the person who needs care, and, we are the one who is capable of giving care.

And just as we take our physical hurts seriously, we must take our mental, emotional, and spiritual hurts seriously.

When a part of us is hurting, it’s not kind to dismiss that part and make no changes. Rather, it’s a time to get creative and figure out how to give ourselves what we need…even, and especially, when others aren’t willing to contribute.

That’s what happened on the day I tested my new hypothesis, “I care for myself while I care for my kids.”

Authentic life example

It was a Saturday morning, and our usually-reliable babysitter cancelled last minute. As soon as I saw her text, my stomach sank.

I knew two things: the long-awaited brunch date I’d planned with my husband Jonathan that morning could not happen, and the kids would still want to go to the pumpkin-patch birthday party we’d planned for them to attend with their babysitter.

This was tough news to swallow. It was (is) hard for me to switch gears last minute, and I hate when best-laid plans fall through. But I remembered that I’d decided not to suffer needlessly that Saturday.

I was testing a new hypothesis; I would no longer throw myself under the bus while caring for the kids.

Was it still a demanding day? Yes, but the following changes made the difference between feeling bitter and victimized and actually living authentically. I felt much better than I would have, had I continued living under the rule of self-sacrifice.

1. Right after I received the cancellation text, I let kids have some bonus video time. Since they typically only watch videos once per day in the afternoon, they were psyched.

To make that change, I needed to question the belief, “I should not let the kids watch videos in the morning!” Giving them video time meant that I could regroup, get dressed in peace, and prepare for the 40 minute drive to the pumpkin patch.

2. Once we arrived at the party and there was very little food available, I mentally re-allocated the funds we’d set aside for the babysitter and ordered takeout for lunch.

This required me to question the thought, “I ought to always give the kids a homemade lunch.” Normally I’d push myself to figure something out at home, but I knew that we were going to be ravenous after the long drive. And unnecessary suffering was no longer an option.

Again, the kids were jubilant – we rarely get takeout, so it made for a nice treat.

3. After we all enjoyed our sushi lunch, I noticed a nagging sense of suffering. Something was wrong, but what?

Then I figured it out: the day before, I’d RSVPed yes to accompanying my older kid on her class trip to the very same pumpkin patch later in the week. Immediately, I knew what I needed to do.

First, I questioned the belief, “I must always keep my agreements, even if circumstances change!”

Then I pulled out my phone, emailed the director of my kids’ preschool, and revised my RSVP. I felt a pang of false guilt – I don’t like revising my agreements, or making other people uncomfortable – but I did it!

I told the director the simple truth: that I’d RSVPed before our babysitter had cancelled last minute, and I needed to switch from Yes to No. I’d brought both kids to the pumpkin patch myself this morning, thereby using up all my pumpkin-patch patience and enthusiasm for the week.

A couple of days later, the director wrote back; as a fellow mom, she said she’d loved my email. My honesty and candor apparently made her laugh out loud. She officially excused me from all pumpkin-patch related activities for the year.

But even if she hadn’t been so kind, changing that RSVP still would have been the right thing for me to do. Finally, finally, I loved myself enough to tell the truth. To say, politely: I hate the pumpkin patch and I am not going back this week!

Which do you choose going forward: Spending your days doing what others expect, or courageously living a life that’s true to you?

Leave your reply in the comments, along with one change you’ll make in the direction of living on purpose.

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