Safe to be ME

Susan Cain and Brené Brown. Most people know who they are, have read their bestsellers and/or were one of the millions who watched their TED Talks in the last 12-14 years. I was NOT one of them. Over the years, I’ve come across many people recommending and quoting Brené Brown’s powerful work on shame, vulnerability and courage. And a very dear friend of mine also gave me Susan Cain’s book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking more than 10 years ago. Yet, I had no desire to read nor watch any of them…until now. Last week, I watched both TED Talks one after another, then devoured Brené Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfections, and I’m now halfway through Cain’s Quiet. And I have never felt so seen.

Even though I knew long ago they were helpful for me, personally and professionally, on some subconscious level, I chose not to look into their work. Why has it taken me so long? I sat with that question for a while. Then it came to me. I have never fully embraced nor felt the value and power of being ME...until I started to heal and experienced safety within me.

Where did I learn to reject being me? I spent many years in my 20s to 30s surrounded by men in the investment banking/corporate world, and the messages that I kept getting was that if I want to be taken seriously and respected I need to speak up, be more vocal to stand out (aka be louder than others), and show my presence (especially given my petite size). It didn’t matter that I got work done and done well, or that I was performing above average. It wasn’t enough because I was not visible, too quiet, and didn’t stand out from the rest. I have to speak up more at meetings, office functions, conferences, and pretty much any chance I get. (P/s: I used to hate attending conferences, where we have to ‘network’, collect business cards, and make so-called ‘connections’ with others in the industry. I’ve even gone as far as pretending to have phone calls to walk away.)

Let’s face it, we live in a world that is constantly sending us messages on how to be. For me, it was hard to feel that it’s ok to just be the quiet introvert that I am in this noisy extroverted world. We tend to hear people ask, ‘Why are you so quiet?’. Yet we hardly ever hear the opposite ‘Why are you so noisy/loud? You see the preference here? We only need to look at social media to realize how much our society value those who ‘put themselves out there’ independent of the real value of what is being put out there by them.

But I didn’t just learn the message that the quiet part of me was less than desirable from work. It started way before that – from my parents. My mom had a quiet strength, the same way Cain described Rosa Parks in Quiet. But I don’t think she was proud of it, or maybe she just never showed it (I will never know because I didn’t get the chance to ask her). So, I presumed when she saw the same in me, she wanted me to be different or rather have a different life than she did. I was constantly reminded that I needed to dress a certain way, present myself a certain way, behave a certain way and perform at a certain level to create a more positive image of myself. Even though my parents never verbalized it as such, the message I came to internalize was that it wasn’t safe to just be ME. In the last few years, I’ve come to realize just how much of these messages can be unconsciously passed down through generations. In fact, I became more aware of how most of the challenges I’ve faced with my daughter stemmed from our struggles in letting each other just be who we are. Like many parents, I have been unconsciously imposing these messages and imprints onto my daughter.

The good news is that over the years, there have been more than enough self-help books (like Brown’s and Cain’s) and courses out there to help us learn to embrace who we are, learn how to reframe our narratives that we are enough, and the countless ways to show up as ourselves with the ‘Do You / Be You’ movements out there. I myself have learned enough to reframe my mindset to embrace being me. Yet, it has always been at the cerebral level. (I suspect that is why the advice of ‘just be yourself’ doesn’t always work!) For me, it was not until I’ve fully experienced the felt sense in my body that I finally internalized what it’s like to feel safe to be me. The real ME, not the personalities I’ve developed, my capabilities or accolades, nor the roles I play, but the true essence of who I simply am, as a whole being.

How did I get there? Firstly, let me say that it wasn’t by following a step-by-step guide. In fact, if someone tells you that there are concrete steps/how-to/secrets anyone can follow to discover how to be, I suggest you turn the other way. Rather, it was through years of trials and errors of finding safety through my connections within and around me.

My first experience of acknowledging that I didn’t feel safe to be me was when I was in university. Seemingly out of nowhere, I confessed to my friends that I realized ‘if I am not smart and do well in studies, I don’t know who I am and if my parents will treat me the same’ and started to tear up. I saw the puzzled look on their faces, unsure of what to do with that information. So, just as quickly as the tears came, I sucked it back in, changed the topic and moved on as if nothing happened. Being honest and vulnerable felt too risky at that time. After that, I continued on functioning in life like a well-oiled machine. Over the years, I knew my body was starting to show signs that I needed to slow down and really look at how I was being and living. But I continued to ignore it, so I could perform, perfect and please (as Brown would say)…and conform to whatever standards were imposed on me (and by me).

Then right before Covid hit in 2020, I had an accident and broke my ankle during a road trip (later that year I injured my knee and fingers too). The few months that followed were excruciatingly painful, not just physically but emotionally. Not only was I house bound before we were on lock down, I couldn’t do most things that I was so used to doing on my own. For once I couldn’t be self-sufficient and perform the only way I know how. The well-oiled machine had finally broken down. I felt utterly vulnerable as I depended on my husband and my then 5yo to do most things for me. Losing the sense of control, which I relied so heavily on to protect my fears, felt too overwhelming. It took an emotional toll on me and my marriage because I was fighting so hard what I knew my body was trying to show me – that it was time for me to let go of all the ideas of who I ought to be and take an honest look at what it truly means to be just me.  

That set off a deeply transforming journey of coming home to myself. During that time, I attended two retreats within a span of 3 months in Mexico, both of which brought me closer to the experience of safety. In the first retreat, I confronted my fear of being vulnerable in front of others when I volunteered to be part of a demonstration, where I learned to give voice to my courage and allow myself to experience the sense of pride in it. That was a powerful moment of felt sense of safety for me. Many later shared how deeply touched they were to witness my willingness to be vulnerable and it changed the way they relate to me afterwards. What they didn’t know was that I had spent the entire morning before that sobbing because I was feeling so isolated, alone, and not fitting in. After that experience, even as I retreated back to my quiet self, in my little corner, I knew something shifted inside. Few months later, again I struggled at first to feel comfortable being me in another (much bigger) group retreat. At first, I experienced the usual sense of isolation, but this time I also experienced a sense of comfort and ease within – that 'it was okay'. I credit part of that to Dr Carli Axford, an excellent teacher and speaker at the retreat, who also happened to be a highly introverted person. She showed me that by truly embracing that part of herself, she also gave permission to everyone to be themselves. And through practicing and receiving healing sessions at that retreat, I experienced what it was like to feel safe and whole again as I embrace all the parts I’ve hidden and protected for so long. Through that, my kind of people were drawn to me and I was able to establish meaningful connections.

From then on I knew I felt differently about myself but couldn’t quite put words to describe it. However, I noticed that I was more and more aware of when I’m being myself, as I connect to others from my heart and a place of ease, and able to catch myself whenever I am not. As I read the works of both Brown and Cain, it occurred to me that what changed was that not only do I understand what it means to feel safe to be me on a cerebral level, I have now experienced that in my body and it made all the difference. A recent experience confirmed this realization further for me. As I was debating whether to openly speak about my passion (and profession) and offer help to someone in need in spite of the fear that it may be seen as self-promotion (which I used to loathe), I felt at ease speaking from my heart without worrying about how it may come across to others. I know that this came from my ability to feel safely anchored in my body.

This new way of being isn’t without consequences. I realized that sometimes it can leave people feeling vulnerable, uncomfortable or exposed. Perhaps it is because they don’t feel safe yet to be themselves or maybe I reflect too much of what they are not ready to face yet or at least not with me. I know this because I’ve had lost connections with people dear to me this way. I’m saddened by it but I’ve come to accept that everyone will choose to be who they are, in their own way, and their own time. And all I can do is stay open and offer a place for them to experience what it’s like to feel safe to just be. My hope is that by being me, I am sending an invitation to others that it is safe to be them.

In Quiet, Cain wrote about the countless researches done to understand the introvert-extrovert continuum and how this influence the way we work, communicate, make decisions and so on, which are all great initiatives to help us coexist more harmoniously. But imagine if the overriding factor is that at the core we all feel safe to be who we are, regardless of where we stand in the spectrum? And in turn we are comfortable to allow others to be who they are, rather than imposing our preferences, ideas or expectations. What kind of world would we live in? What kind of parents would we be, and the children we would raise? What kind of working / school / living environment would we create?

In a world that is constantly trying to show you how to BE, may you find safety within to be you, the authentic you, not out of defiance (I-don’t-give-a-hoot-about-what-others-think or I’ll-prove-others-wrong-doing-whatever-I-want), but rather from a place of ease within. What would it look like for you?

As for me, it doesn’t mean that I don't recoil at the very idea of being in environments that I may not feel totally comfortable being myself. In fact, I still catch myself instantly wanting to turn down every opportunity to be in social settings (I still think twice before even agreeing to play dates for my daughter). But I also now know deeply how I can access the feeling of safety within me, to show up as I am, and not what I ought to be, whenever I need to. And that awareness brings me back to regulation instead of allowing anxiety to run the show.

However, when it comes to my love-hate relationship with social media, I am still finding my way in how I choose to show up in this space. Self-promotion isn’t my thing but I also want to share my learnings and experiences with others, with the hopes that someone out there may resonate with it and know they are not alone. I want to connect from that space of ease, from my heart, even if it means I may only reach a handful of people, at best. I have faith that I will find my way, slowly but surely.

I know you will too. And if I could accompany you along the way, I will be honored to.