What Performing “Normal” Cost Me, and What Changed When I Stopped
A personal story about self-silencing and the more abundant life I found when I stopped trying to be acceptable.
For a long time, I thought being “normal” would keep me safe.
I tried to be the good Christian boy. The perfect employee. The son who caused no trouble. The person who followed the rules, fit in, and gave people no reason to question anything too closely.
That seemed like the smart way to live. It seemed mature. Responsible. Safer than the alternative.
But performing “normal” came with a cost.
I was lonely and depressed, because I was going through the motions with no true sense of purpose.
Places that were supposed to feel meaningful and safe, including church and community spaces, stopped feeling comfortable.
I was performing all the time, and after a while, I didn’t even know who “myself” was anymore.
Part of that was because I didn’t come out as gay until my late twenties. Not because I didn’t know I was, but because I was scared.
I was scared of losing my job. Scared of being hurt both physically and emotionally. Scared of losing family, community, and the life I knew. So I stayed in denial, even with myself.
That’s what performing can do. It can make self-silencing feel responsible. It can make fear seem wise. It can make a false version of safety feel like the best you can hope for.
Until one day, it doesn’t.
What performing “normal” cost me wasn’t just freedom. It cost me connection with myself.
When you spend enough years trying to be acceptable at the expense of yourself, you start mistaking performance for identity.
You get used to asking, “What version of me will work here?” instead of “What is actually true for me?” The editing becomes so constant that it starts to feel natural.
That happened to me.
I thought I was protecting my life. In some ways, I was. But I was also building a life around what other people could handle, not around who I really was.
That kind of life can hold together for a while. It can even look successful from the outside. But it can’t make you whole.
My turning point came when what I was living through became harder than what I was afraid of. I had to admit to myself that I was gay. I had to begin loving and accepting myself, even without any guarantee that other people would do the same.
I moved to a place that was more accepting. I started over in ways that were painful and necessary.
And yes, some of the fears I had did come true.
I lost family. I lost friends. I lost the life I thought I was supposed to keep.
But what I found on the other side was something I could never have found while pretending.
I found a life where more of me could come forward. I found people who don’t merely tolerate me, but accept and love me.
I found work where my difference isn’t a liability, but part of what I bring to the table. I found chosen family. I found more joy. I found more fun. I found a life that actually feels like mine.
That’s why I keep coming back to this truth.
Once I began living more honestly, my life changed. I started attracting different people, different work, and different possibilities.
I now live in a city I love, San Francisco. I have a career where I am fully out, with no worry around being known.
I have a chosen family of close friends who watch out for one another, care for one another, and celebrate and mourn together. I live in the safest place I have ever lived, surrounded by a close and supportive community of neighbors.
People in my life don’t merely tolerate me but accept and embrace me. Places I frequent do not demand performance but make room for my real self.
None of this is insignificant. This is the life I couldn’t reach while I was still performing.
Abundance is not only about what we gain for ourselves, it’s also about the ways we’re more able to belong, to connect, to be supported, and to support others in return.
My life is more abundant, not because everything got easy, but because it finally became real. I finally became real. This is why I don’t think being yourself is only a personal issue.
When we silence ourselves, the world loses access to the particular way we love, create, notice, speak, build, care, and connect. It loses our real gifts. It loses the very difference that could help make the whole stronger.
A healthy community isn’t built by everyone acting the same. It’s built by people bringing what is true, distinct, and alive in them.
That doesn’t mean self-expression has to be loud and “in your face”. Sometimes it begins in private. Sometimes it begins with finally telling yourself the truth.
Sometimes it begins with noticing how much of your life is built around managing other people’s comfort.
For me, it was a matter of death and life.
Once you recognize what you’re carrying at your own expense, you choose differently. It may not happen all at once. It might not be perfect. But it is real.
Join the Conversation
If you are comfortable to do so, please share something performing “normal” has cost you.
Or share what changed when you stopped building your life around what other people expected and made more room for your real self.
You can find more of my personal stories on the Abundance Living Resource page.
I finally had the time to read it carefully. Thank you for sharing it.
This is the truth about life, about who we are. And I am happy to know you found your place, it cost you, and it was painful, and it birthed something beautiful for you, a life where you are true to yourself, with the right people around you :)
Such true words - trying to be normal, whatever that means in various contexts, usually comes at a cost. I remember when trying to be"normal" in my business job led me to running out of my house at midnight and walking in the dark thinking about jumping in front of a car. After walking aimlessly, I reached a medical facility that was open and had a phone in the lobby. I called a friend who helped me focus and then I called my husband who came to get me. I know from then on I had to leave that job and left it up to the Divine to show me the way. Two weeks later, I was laid off. I celebrated my freedom and moved on toward discovery and shift. Thank you for sharing this. It is such an important personal and universal message.