11. True Self

I bet the question you’re asking is: What’s the difference between authenticity and true self? Here’s a quote from Louise Hay: “As I move through the layers of other people’s opinions and beliefs, I see within myself a magnificent being both wise and beautiful.” The first clause describes the authenticity part; the second part describes your true self. Authenticity is about turning down the voices telling you who others want you to be. The true self is about tuning into and trusting the voice telling you who you want you to be.

The New Script busic had helped me let go of my assumptions of the need for fear and had allowed me to begin to trust others. With this True Self busic, I added another dimension to trust – trust of myself.

My original script had been built on the need to demonstrate to others who I was and what I could do. I was finally through doing things to show others that I was enough because I finally believed that I was enough. That belief in my implicit worthiness allowed me to trust myself to live as my unique self and to create a life of my own choosing. I could do that without getting it perfect or have other people like my performance. I could finally say as Glennon Doyle said, “This life is mine alone. I have stopped asking people for directions to places they’ve never been.”

With that ground in my own uniqueness, I began being and doing less of what other people, social media, and my ego mind said I should and more of what I myself actually needed and wanted. The thought that kept me moving in that direction was: The less I push to get what my ego-mind’s fears say I should, the better I recognize what’s really important in what I, Loretta, truly need and want.

As you might expect, the biggest gain from trusting the ground of my own uniqueness was that I was finally able to stay present. Previously, my ego-mind had always kept me out of the present because it was always looking to keep me “safe” by following my old fear-based patterns.

I began to see that my ego-mind commonly resorted to two distinct tricks to pull me out of the present:

Imagining bigger and better outcomes – I saw how often my ego-mind lured me out of the present into fantasies about things being different than what was actually before me. I now caught myself imagining bigger and better homes, jobs, vacations… even when I knew that those outcomes would necessarily come with additional stressors. This need for proving by attaining some more perfect version of life constantly tried to pull me away from attending to what I was actually experiencing in the moment.

Rehearsing dialogues for greater approval – I also saw how often my ego-mind led me into rehearsing dialogues with other people… who were clearly not present in my head. Most of these conversations would never happen. They were merely intended to feed my need for pleasing by giving an improved verbal performance. Once again, these head talks necessarily removed me from my actual present experience.

The very best part of becoming aware of those two tricks, was that the better I got at recognizing the tricks, the better I got at stopping them before they had pulled me into that same-old stale landscape in my head. And the better I got at staying present in my own life.

With time, my sense of fulfillment became less outwardly and future focused. I was able to see the Amazon truck logo “That thing you wanted. It’s right. In. Here.” And think, “You know, I don’t think I really want it.” And to hear others’ praise, criticism or even opposition, and think, “You know what, I don’t really care.” Certainly not all the time and in all circumstances. I still did wonder if the Amazon truck might have a new bathing suit that fit just right, and I still hoped that the people in my jam session thought I could really sing. But those thoughts for greater perfection and approval didn’t occur as often or with as much impact as they had before.

I now trusted myself enough to say no to tasks that I previously would have said yes to because I thought I should. I turned down two editing projects, and I said no to being the co-chair of the social committee of our boating club. I could now see my own role in creating my perpetual sense of urgency around accomplishing tasks in order to prove my abilities.

I now could also see how not stating my feelings actually insured others wouldn’t listen to my wants and needs because they didn’t even know what my desires were. Worse yet, never complaining when my feelings were ignored actually incentivized those who did know my desires to ignore those desires because they knew there would be no repercussions. I saw with new eyes my own role in feeling unheard in order to please and be accepted.

I do have to point out a fundamental difficulty with the trust needed to be your true self. If your experiences have taught you to be fearful, there is no way that you will later learn to trust – even if you’re in new circumstances where the fears are unnecessary. (This is a particular flavor of the Closed-Loop Problem, where your Original Script prevents any new experiences that deviate from your old survival tactics.)

Since my experiences had taught me to fear being disabled and rejected, I was constantly running away from those fears by using my patterns of proving and pleasing in order to feel safe. But while believing in the effectiveness of proving and pleasing, I would never, ever, actually feel safe because there was always something I had to do in order to protect myself and feel safe.

The only way out of this dilemma was to make a conscious decision to trust – to decide that I was indeed worthy enough and safe enough and loved enough to trust. Trust others. Trust myself. Trust that my life had been leading me to learn to trust all along. That is the journey made by every True Self. As Miles Davis once said, “Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.”

The songs in this True Self busic call to my uniqueness. They ring out in celebration of my essential nature – exactly as it is, with no if’s, ands, or buts. Some songs reassure my younger wounded child that it’s finally safe to come out and play.  Some songs testify to the pain, and ultimately to the pride, that comes from following your own path. But in all the songs, I hear my true self singing out in joyous celebration of the uniqueness that is me.

When I was quite young, I was fond of a neighbor named Grace. Grace recently told me that when she would come home from work, she often found me sitting on the curb waiting for her. I would tell her how the neighborhood kids had seen my differences and had wanted to fix me. She told me then what it has taken me so long to accept for myself: “You don’t need fixing.” 

My true self had never wanted to perform some supposed perfect existence. It had always wanted the freedom to be alive, awake, appreciating, and trusting of its own unique life. Once the true self believes in its implicit worthiness, the only game worth playing is the one in which you give yourself permission to be yourself and to create the life you truly want.  As Joseph Campbell once said, “The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.”