My friend, I want to talk to you about unmasking our authentic self… and why we might develop masks in the first place .

A mask is nothing more than a persona, or a way of being in the world that hides what’s underneath. In this case, what's underneath is our tender, luminous, expansive authentic self.

There are many reasons we become disconnected from our Authentic Self, or our true identity.

Our True Identity is sacred, it’s the blueprint of who we are here to be, what we are here to express. It is our Essence. I believe we all come in the world with a core essence, and over time with traumas, the societal programming we receive, the ways we develop “personality”, persona and adaptive strategies, we get further and further from our Authentic, True Identity.

Regardless if you have heaps of complex childhood trauma, or no notable traumas– we ALL get disconnected from our True Identity. Personality, or Ego, is something we all get to navigate in this lifetime. I believe it is part of Earth School, part of the reason we came here.

When I am speaking with a client, it almost does not matter the surface level problem they are presenting:

Lack of boundaries
Frustration in work
Not being taken seriously
Relationship conflict
Codependency
People pleasing and fawning
Feeling stuck, overwhelmed or confused
Or otherwise…

Usually the core issue is actually that they feel out of integrity with their True Identity–

Their Soul wants to express in a way their life, habits, patterns, adaptive strategies or personality is not making room for. Their current reality is too small for their full expression, for their true desires, for their truth… and it’s uncomfy to mask, pretend, fawn and live an inauthentic life.

The reason this is so damn important to me is because my deep work in this lifetime has been to allow my own authentic self to shine forth… and with a narcissist parent, with a neurodivergent mind, with a femme presentation, as a young girl with a bold spirit… I felt I had to dampen and perform to get love. So my persona, or my personality became a high-achieving, very successful, likable, popular person. But you guys, I was so disconnected from my authentic self.

So much so I didn’t know I was queer– I could not feel my body. I was in multiple abusive relationships because my body trusted others opinions of me more than I trusted myself. I was so desperate for approval and love, I’d adopt others’ desires for me and just become that, quite successfully.

It’s taken years of work to anchor myself back in my body, to feel safe enough to discover who I really am. To unmask my authentic self, and let my true desires, values and needs be the place I move from. This level of integrity has been a work of devotion. It’s required me to feel the deep-seeded shame in my heart: the fear that as I am, I am not lovable. That I must be more, do more, create more to be worthy.

But as my mentors say, a fixated thing is not free–

and I was fixated on creating a Self, rather than revealing my Self.

That’s why when I talk about Living your Liberation, it all comes back to YOUR authentic self, your True Identity-

The version of you who remembers your fullest expression. The version of you untouched by trauma, adaptive patterns and persona. The version of you that is felt vibrationally, spiritually, the version of you who radiates from presence and your heart-space.

It takes time to unwind from all the people you’ve been taught you had to be to be good, to get love, to be accepted, to belong… it takes devotion to move your life in a direction of integrity, to disarm your heart and to have the courage to let your True Self be seen.

And my friend, it’s so worth it.

I want to read a poem I wrote as I was processing my own unmasking journey–

For those of you who are neurodivergent, who fawn, who mask, who habitually become who others’ want you to be… I hope you can feel yourself in this, and notice what happens in your body as I share.

I didn’t begin with fences around my heart.
Barbed wire outlining the edges of closeness.
Trip wires, so subtle, telling me to dampen down before they can spot the muchness.
A rule book so long— I’ve spent decades studying it. I’m exhausted from beating them at their own game.
In the lighter days I danced like a fool in public.
I was as fragrant as a bed of roses, albeit without thorns.
I wrote letters of love daily to those looking in at the cool kids table.
I sat on both sides, unsure to which I belonged.
I didn’t know it was considered “immature” to be so free.
I’d wear hot pink oversized shirts and butterfly shoes one day,
and be sent home for a much-too-short mini skirt and heels the next.
What gives?
I’d overshare, but then be quickly forgiven as I painted rainbows and hung them in the classroom.
It’s cute until it’s not.
Like a fairy prancing in her own world, I’d say, “something good is coming, I know it!”
I believed it wholeheartedly.
A showgirl, except I wasn’t putting on a show.
I didn’t yet know trust is what makes one untrustworthy.
Earnestness bled from me and spilled over onto everyone I knew.
I’d raise my hands in worship and write poetry about the goodness of God.
I lived in truth.
Saturated in kindness.
Benevolent love all over me.
Inside and all around.
Good graces followed, mostly because I ran em down— a compulsory chase.
I just couldn’t help myself.
I followed gratitude everywhere like it could be mine.
And it was.
Jotting down for one whole year every.single.thing. that brought me joy.
I still have that journal, “The List of things I love.”
My prom photo, the one with the baby-fat cleavage that left me by 17 taped onto the cover.
I didn’t yet know (despite what they say) its actually a faux pa to love yourself.
Tacky, really.
Overly sensitive and usually too loud, I didn’t know when to stop talking.
Thankfully, I hadn’t yet been made aware I should care.
I was free to be.
With delight I followed my golden cord; never once did I exhaust myself.
I miss those days.
This was before I was given the guard rails and zipped up into excellence.
Before I knew how the “pretty girls” should act— trust me I had to be put in my place a time or ten.
I was better before I was able to interpret the language of their subtle remarks.
Before I could perceive their exhaustion.
Before I realized no one was laughing when I was joking…
they chuckled when I wasn’t.
Are they laughing at me?
I’m so funny but no one knows.
I started to see the space between us.
Soon enough, but far too late, I realized my place in the inverted world.
I know what their gaze means now, and it hurts.
I’m alone in my joy.
Isolated in my awe.
Frozen in my goodness.
I learned their secret language and the backwards truths they preach.
In the inverted world sincerity is a weakness and openness may as well be a crime.
Upside-down, honesty is worse than a slap in the face and curiosity only makes you vulnerable.
Once I understood, my starry gaze turned dull and flat like the face they are scared of.
I took their notes and became fluent.
I stopped dancing because the onlookers begged me so.
I dressed in black and beige— bleached my hair.
A cat eye to boot, because appearance is a tool and beauty is a currency.
I acted dumb and asked too many questions— I already knew the answers.
Mindful not to speak of myself or my joy unless asked.
Mindful of my appearance, and all the endless ways others may experience me.
And did.
I became neurotic and self-obsessed as to not seem so.
I fed the ego of the hungry ones; curating a self that would please them.
They hated me for it.
Too perfect, must be fake.
What do they expect?
This is what happens when you study their language more closely than they do.
I put away childish things; locked them up deep within.
Shame. On. You. The fool.
And now I can’t find myself.
Their ice box has me dead inside.
Generative joy, buried underground.
A waxy plastic plant in its place.
Slowly Mother God found me there, in the fertile soil of darkness.
She nurtured what looked dead and composted the rest.
That’s the thing about the Earth, the fungi, the mycelium.
Her logic is inverted.
God, the fool, where you least expect to find her.
And that’s the beauty of nature— not even barbed wire can withstand her time.
Spring is coming— and as the leaves dance away I see one lone green sprout bursting forth, receiving the grace of the Sun.
This one is willing to worship first.

So there you have it my friends.

The messy, beautiful, humbling, heart-expanding journey of living from your integrity.

May Mother God find you, may she renew your soul, heal your shame, and support you to peel back those layers and let yourself be seen.

The more YOU you are, the safer you will be.

If you haven’t registered for the Alive Again email series and workshop, I HIGHLY encourage you to do so. I have written 5 free emails, which read more like a mini-course, that will support you in doing exactly this– to live your liberation, while helping you find your joy, the wonder of being alive and the wisdom in your fullest expression.

You can register easily at madisonmorrigan.com/alive-again

If you’re enjoying the series, please do let me know. I’d love to receive an email or an Instagram message from you.

As my Grandmother Rose would say, I’ll talk at ya later.

xo, Madison