The Cure Isn’t a Diagnosis. It’s the Truth.
The concept of authenticity was introduced in 1927 by German philosopher Martin Heidegger, not as some trendy feel-good idea, but as an existential one.
To be authentic is to own your existence.
Not the curated version. Not the professional version.
Just the absolute, raw, unfiltered truth of who you are,
even when it costs you.
This was the framework that grabbed me by the throat in school. Out of all the psychological theories, this one felt real.
Ironically— and painfully—
It was also the area where I saw the least practice in the field of mental health. In my experience with therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, professors, colleagues—about 90% of them, if I’m being honest—I didn’t see this quality.
Let’s be Real: Society has already decided for us how we should show up.
I saw people hiding. Performing. Playing roles.
Why?
Because the world doesn’t reward you for being real. The world rewards performance.
And the therapy field, as progressive as it tries to sound, is still stuck in that same damn cycle (For more information on why progress in therapy often stalls, click here).
Let's be real: society has already decided how we should all appear as therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, lawyers, engineers, executives, and so forth.
And when you don’t fit that mold, you’re seen as unstable, unprofessional, unfit.
You get labeled. Corrected. Dismissed. Fired.
So what’s the consequence?
We learn to edit ourselves.
To quiet the truth.
To dress it up just enough so it’s “palatable.”
And that’s not authenticity.
That’s self-abandonment— and it’s one of the root causes of the very mental illness we’re supposed to be treating.
We’re exhausted not because we’re weak, but because the roles are endless.
The Price of Truth
People love to throw around the phrase “just be authentic.”
However, what they don’t discuss is the double-edged sword: the cost.
Because owning who you really are? That comes with consequences.
Here's mine:
I’m a woman with strong masculine principles. Not in the “boss babe” kind of way—in the Jungian sense. My unconscious is wired for strength, clarity, depth, and confrontation. (To understand better what this concept means, read, The Balanced Masculine and Feminine: The Dance of the Sun and Moon.)
I’m also a total girly girl.
But this internal strength—this masculine core—has deterred men. Over and over again.
I’ve been told, more times than I can count, especially by therapists and people who call themselves mental health coaches, to:
“Don’t lead with that part of you.”
“Tone it down.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Be more silent. Less adventurous. That will make you more desirable, in other words, less intimidating.”
And for a long time, I listened.
But every time I ignored that part of me, I felt like I was betraying myself. (Read The Cost of the Truth to see how this kind of advice fuels today’s divorce rates—while therapists profit from teaching us to settle for less.)
Because here’s the truth: if I don’t show this part of me on the first date, the second, the fifth— it’s going to show up anyway.
It’s who I am.
And if that turns someone off?
Then they were never for me to begin with.
The double-edged sword, this masculine principle of mine— the part that intimidates men— is the same part that has built my career. I actually have more male clients than woman clients in my practice.
It’s what allows me to hold space with depth, to say the thing no one else will say, to be the mirror most people spend their whole lives avoiding.
What’s rejected in the dating world is valued in the healing world— because it works.
The Presence of Authenticity
Emptiness isn’t a defect, it’s the side effect of performance.
I’ve had men—executives, CEOs, people used to being in control—sit across from me and say, “No one’s ever dared to say that to me before.”
That's not me being harsh. That's my authentic masculine principle at work: clarity, depth, and zero performance.
It’s not confrontation. Its Presence. Its Authenticity.
And once they feel that presence, it provides them with a safe space to start showing up as themselves.
That’s the cure.
That’s the thing about authenticity:
It filters people.
It strips away the noise.
It highlights the distinction between genuine connection and mere performance.
And that’s both the gift and the side effects of it—because once you see the truth, you can’t unsee it.
The more you own who you are, the more isolated you can feel. Because we don’t live in an authentic world. People Judge. People have opinions. People project. People push back. People have resistances.
We’re living in an age where everyone is in pain, and none of us have been given the coping skills to cope with our pain.
We've been told to hide our pain, forget it, and if you’ve healed from it, don’t talk about it, because it will make people uncomfortable.
And when you’re living from your authentic self, you have to learn how to stand in that discomfort without shrinking.
I’ve learned that not everyone deserves access to the deepest parts of you. Not everyone has authentic intentions.
If you don’t show up as you, you’ll never know who’s real. You’ll attract mirrors of your mask, not reflections of your soul.
The world teaches us rules, but forgets to teach us to be ourselves.
The Final Battleground
This isn’t just my story. This is everyone’s story.
Authenticity isn’t a trend. It’s a battleground.
It requires deep roots, emotional resilience, and a willingness to be rejected by the rejected to stay connected to yourself.
The truth:
There’s no healing without authenticity.
There’s no love without authenticity.
There’s no life—not a real one—without authenticity.
It’s fragile. It’s fierce. And it’s the only way forward.
If this hit home, subscribe. We’re not just talking about the 'Instagram version' of authenticity here. We're talking about the raw, fierce, and real version that actually gets results.
The cure begins when you stop hiding the light inside yourself.