All my life, I’ve wrestled with a single question: Am I living authentically, or merely performing a version of myself shaped by expectation?
Was I living by inherited scripts—family dynamics, societal norms, survival roles—or was I honoring my truth?
As a child, I often wondered why the hurtful things people said about me didn’t feel true. Deep down, something resisted those labels. Something inside me knew these statements were not true. But it would take years before I had the courage to fully ask: Who am I, really, beneath it all?
Sometimes, authenticity doesn’t arrive with a lightning bolt—it emerges slowly, in quiet moments. In the mirror. In pain. In joy. In truth-telling.
It’s not about becoming someone new. It’s about unbecoming everything you were never meant to be, so you can finally return to yourself.
This is a glimpse into that journey.
Poverty: My First Teacher in Authentic Living
I didn’t grow up with wealth. I grew up with wisdom disguised as struggle.
Poverty taught me to stretch a dollar, to eat last, to find joy in small things. It taught me how to see people—their needs, their energy, their stories.
Later, as a single mother raising children while on welfare and living in subsidized housing, I was cloaked in the silent shame of needing help. Each year, before my scheduled welfare appointments, I agonized: Should I dress in my best thrift-store outfit, put on makeup, and show up with dignity? Or should I wear my old jogging pants and remove my earrings to look the part of someone deserving of assistance?
I wanted to look my best because it made me feel human. But I feared that if I appeared too whole, I might lose the support my family depended on.
It was a painful tug-of-war between authenticity and survival.
Yet even then, authenticity whispered to me. It reminded me that my worth was never about appearances or approval. It was about who I was becoming: a woman of insight, grit, and heart.
Unbecoming: The Sacred Work of Returning to Self
Before I could know who I was, I had to shed who I had been told to be.
As a child, I absorbed the message that I was “too much”—too emotional, too sensitive, too loud. I learned to shrink myself, to apologize for existing, to bear pain silently so I wouldn’t be a burden.
That conditioning taught me invisibility was safer than authenticity. But the truth is: authenticity is safer for the soul. It’s what frees us.
Unbecoming is holy work. It’s peeling back the layers of silence, shame, and self-denial. It’s realizing that emotions are not a liability—they are wisdom. That kindness is not weakness—it is strength. That taking up space is not arrogance—it is our birthright.
As I let go of the masks, I uncovered a bright, pulsing spark within me—a voice that had always wanted to be heard. I started saying yes to speaking engagements, to giving inspirational talks, to teaching from the heart. With every step, the shame and self-doubt began to dissolve. Authenticity became my compass. It was something that felt right.
Chronic Pain: The Body’s Invitation to Presence
Living with chronic pain is like carrying an invisible storm. It disconnects you from others—and from yourself.
There were days my body betrayed me, days I couldn’t get out of bed. But in those still moments, I heard something deeper: a spiritual whisper that said, You are more than this pain. You are mind, you are spirit. Don’t forget who you are.
That whisper became a calling. I pursued a graduate degree in psychology, not just to understand pain—but to transform it into purpose. I discovered integrative psychology and fell in love with mind-body medicine. I saw the science that mirrored my experience.
Eventually, I began teaching a branch of psychology called psychoneuroimmunology (PNI)—the very field that explained how my thoughts, emotions, and beliefs shaped my physical health.
Authenticity, I realized, was not just emotional. It was biological. My body responded not just to treatments, but to truth.
Education: Reclaiming Voice Through Knowledge
There was a time when a doctorate felt impossible—too big a dream for someone like me. But I didn’t pursue it for the letters after my name. I pursued it for the clarity it gave me.
Psychology gave me language for my lived experience. It helped me understand my patterns and gave me tools to support others on their healing path. It helped me reclaim my voice—and teach others to do the same.
Authenticity isn’t just personal—it’s collective. When one person shows up real, it gives others permission to do the same.
Homelessness: Where I Found My Truest Self
Even after earning a doctorate, I found myself without a home.
No address. No key. No safety net. Just the next borrowed room, the next night.
But homelessness stripped me of everything false. I couldn’t hide behind titles or possessions. I met myself there—raw, humbled, real.
To survive, I began house- and pet-sitting. And in those quiet homes, with animals by my side, I rediscovered tenderness. Their presence reminded me of a universal truth: you don’t have to prove your worth to be loved. I also learned that animals are amazing healing agents. This realization served me well as I pursued integrative health and healing.
Authenticity is not about stability—it’s about showing up as you are, even when everything else has fallen away.
Teaching: Leading with Truth
Standing in front of a university classroom sometimes feels surreal. But I belong there—not just because of my credentials, but because of my journey.
I bring my whole self to my students—the child of poverty, the woman who faced homelessness, the academic, the healer.
I don’t just teach theory. I teach life. I remind them: Your story matters. Every chapter. Every scar.
I once had a student in my Psychology 101 class who interrupted lectures by standing on his desk and singing Whitney Houston songs. He had an incredible voice, but most saw him as a disruption.
Rather than silence him, I invited his voice into the space. We made a deal: he could sing a Whitney song at the start of each class. After that, he was focused and engaged.
He didn’t need discipline. He needed permission to be authentic.
Spiritual Awakening: The Soul Remembers
Through pain, silence, and surrender, I came to understand something deeper: we are not just bodies, not just wounds, not just memories.
We are energy. We are spirit. We are connected to something greater.
This awakening wasn’t a concept—it was a lived truth. Once I felt it, I couldn’t un-feel it. My spirit became my guide, my anchor, my truth-teller.
Authenticity is not just psychological—it is spiritual. It is the soul saying, This is who I am, beneath the noise.
Why Authenticity Matters
Authenticity is not a destination—it’s a daily decision.
It’s the courage to be real, even when it’s risky. Especially then.
It’s choosing your truth over approval. It’s honoring your wounds and your wisdom.
It’s not about what you’ve survived despite—but who you’ve become because of it.
If you’re still searching for your true self, hear this:
You’re not broken. You’re becoming.
And every step you take is leading you home to yourself.
Every hardship, every joy, every quiet moment of reflection—each one is a sacred thread in the tapestry of you.
Your story matters.
Your spirit matters.
And you—exactly as you are—are enough.
