The Real Me

You only get one chance

to be yourself.

One life.

One voice.

One brief turn on this earth.

And yet so many of us spend years

becoming who other people need us to be.

The agreeable version.

The quiet version.

The version that asks for less.

Needs less.

Stays small.

Keeps the peace.

We learn to read the room.

To soften our opinions.

To change our shape.

To become whoever is needed

in that moment.

A different version for work.

Another for family.

Another for friends.

Another for strangers.

Until one day

you realize you have spent so much time trying not to disappoint other people…

that you have disappointed yourself.

The truth is,

when you begin speaking honestly,

asking for what you need,

and showing up as your real self,

some people may not like it.

Some people may miss

the quieter version of you.

Some people were comfortable

with the person who asked for less.

The cost of keeping everyone happy

should not be yourself.

Because one day,

all that will matter

is whether you lived your life

or simply spent it

trying not to disappoint everyone else.

You only get one chance

to be yourself.

Take it.

❤️

A few years back someone asked me a question during an interview, “Who is the real you, the professional version or the private version?”

I had to think about it.

For most of my life, I think I became whoever the situation required. One version for work. One for family. One for friends. One for the people I hoped would approve of me.

I was so accustomed to adjusting myself that I wasn’t sure there was one “real” version at all.

And then I began working in hospice.

The people sitting at the end of their lives didn’t need a polished version of me. They didn’t need perfection or professionalism. They needed honesty. Presence. Humanity. They needed to trust me. I owed them that.

Over time, I realized that the version of myself I brought to the bedside was the one who felt the most at peace, so little by little, I stopped changing depending on who was standing in front of me.

The person my patients knew became the person my family knew. The person my friends knew. The person my coworkers knew. The person I knew.

Just me.

It took me years to realize that I didn’t need anyone else’s permission to be myself. I needed to give myself permission to be enough, and to be the version of me that felt most at home in my own skin.

If I were asked that same question today, I would say that I am the truest version of myself I have ever been. This is the real me.

And that makes me smile.

xo

Gabby