I’ve struggled with many fears throughout my life. The fear of public speaking. The fear of failure. The fear of change. So many things that have truly held me back. And to be honest, I still haven’t fully gotten over those fears. But one that I’m proud to say I’ve slowly started to accept—and even appreciate—is myself.

Growing up, I never seemed to fit in the way that other people did. Social interactions felt harder. I was constantly analyzing myself and wondering why I couldn’t just be like other people. So, I did what a lot of people do when they feel different. I adapted. I adjusted to a life that didn’t feel like mine, but I had to push through anyway because that was expected of me.

Looking back, I can see how much energy I spent trying to blend in. I would try to act like other people. I paid close attention to what people liked, what they didn’t like, and what seemed tolerable. Without realizing it, I spent years trying to become someone who would be easier for other people to understand.

I remember taking on everyone else’s interests as my own because I thought that I would be more likable. More accepted. I pretended to like Barbie dolls at a young age because that was the trend and my friends were really into them, even though I wasn’t. I acted like a girly-girl for certain friends who were that way, even though I wasn’t. Acting became second nature.

But as for my interests? I kept them hidden. I felt like no one would care or take notice of them. Growing up, I was interested in things like baseball, rock collecting, painting, writing, and an obsession with pop culture, especially films.

But, I felt like my interests were boring compared to other people’s. I just never felt comfortable talking about them because I didn’t want to be too much or talk too much.

Still to this day, I keep my interests hidden because of the fear of criticism, even though people have definitely caught on to them.

Right now, I have four main interests—the Dodgers, the same music I’ve listened to over and over again for years (Linkin Park), being a hardcore foodie and cook, and of course blogging and writing.

My friends know me well. They send me Dodgers videos, Linkin Park videos, and new recipes.

It’s nice to know they see those parts of me, even though it still makes me a little uncomfortable sometimes.

It shouldn’t bother me, but it does for some strange reason—I still haven’t figured out why.

But even with my interests being well received, I still adapt to other people’s interests more than I’d like to because I still feel that I won’t be accepted in some way.

And the funny thing is, it wasn’t just my interests that I hid.

I stayed quiet when I had something to say. I laughed when everyone else laughed, even when I didn’t get the joke. Basically, I hid every part of myself—my struggles, my sensitivities, and the parts of me that felt too different. At the time, I thought I was protecting myself from rejection (probably my biggest fear). Because deep down, I worried that if people saw the real me, they wouldn’t like what they found.

And for me, that’s been a constant echo in my mind—that people will never like me for me. That’s why I can’t say I’ve gotten over the fear of rejection, because I’m still very much consumed by it.

Little did I know I was walking around with an invisible illness. One that would eventually give me the answers I had spent years searching for. The things I had spent my life criticizing myself for finally had context.

My struggles weren’t personal failures. My brain just worked differently. And that realization didn’t erase all of my insecurities, but it did give me understanding. And with understanding came self-compassion.

Instead of seeing my differences as imperfections, I began seeing them as a part of who I am. And with that realization came clarity. For the very first time, I felt a part of me embrace myself.

I hugged that little girl who was so confused, the teenager who was so angry and frustrated, and the adult in me, reassuring myself that it’s okay to be authentically yourself.

Now, there are still moments when I worry about being misunderstood. There are still moments when I wonder if I’m too quiet, too sensitive, or too different. But those thoughts don’t control me the way they used to.

My goal was never to become someone else. My goal was to become comfortable being myself. And honestly, that has been one of the most freeing things I’ve ever experienced.

If overcoming a fear means learning to live without letting it make your decisions for you, then I think this is a fear I’ve overcome.

It’s not because the fear never visits me anymore. It’s because it no longer gets to decide who I am.

Have you ever hidden parts of yourself in order to fit in or feel accepted?

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” — Oscar Wilde

Listen to the podcast episode here: