Recently I was reflecting on a conversation I had years ago with my then therapist about how I felt like I was a complete mess. And my therapist, meaning well, rather quickly remarked that I looked very put together and seemed to have a lot going for me. She was trying to bolster me. Trying to help me see that I couldn’t actually be a mess if I didn’t look like one.

And she was right, on the outside I did seem to have it all figured out. Likely no one in my life would have guessed that anything was out of place. I seemed perfectly capable of handling my stress, probably even in therapy. And the truth was, I wasn’t letting anyone get close enough to me to see the messiest parts. And so, it came to be that it didn’t matter that nothing felt right in my life, because to everyone else, nothing looked wrong.

Please know, this isn’t a critique of my past therapist, although I do want to urge therapists to see beyond the way someone presents in session. This is commentary on how we can seem one way to others while feeling an entirely different way to ourselves. You see, what the therapist was seeing in me was by design. I had long been curating an image of myself that was acceptable for public consumption. I learned in childhood that looking as if nothing was wrong helped my struggles to stay hidden, and when parts of our lives are hidden, we can at least pretend to be okay for other people’s benefit.

Meanwhile, while I was playing pretend on the outside, I was suffering on the inside.

It took a lot for me to tell the therapist that I felt like a mess. Thinking back on it now I realize that that version of me must have been yearning for someone to see her. Hoping someone would validate her pain. Desiring anyone to step in and help her carry the burden of hiding in plain sight. If only she could have acknowledged how I was presenting AND what I was saying. If only one of us could have seen the incongruence going on in the room.

Something that contributed to the therapist missing me, was that I didn’t know how to be congruent. I showed up to her office with a full face of makeup, hair curled, and in an intentional outfit that was just trendy enough to not stand out one way or another. I never shed a tear in our sessions. I sat upright even when it hurt my back to do so. I talked only about the topics that wouldn’t bring about my own complexity or lack of knowing. I had her fooled, and truthfully, I was often fooled by my presentation as well. I would use my ability to pull it all together (hello perfectionism) to gaslight myself about my struggles. Something to the effect of, “What is wrong with you? Why do you feel this way? Look around, nothing is actually wrong.”

And y’all, this self-talk was not only not okay, it was dangerous. It kept me from honoring my feelings, seeing my truth, and offering myself the love and nurturance I had long been needing. Dear ones, when I tell you to be gentle with yourselves it’s because I know the harm that being hard on yourself when the world has been harder, can really do to your psyche. My incongruence and my negative self-talk were at the forefront of my life, and they were impacting my ability to be seen not only by myself, but by everyone around me. Self-loathing, self-criticism, and self-rejection all drive incongruence, and it wasn’t until I started to soften to myself that I began to see how I could show up more fully as myself.

For so many complex trauma survivors, acting as if became the only way of existing. Incongruence becomes a way of life when you are a kid trying to hide the chaos that is going on at home. Pretending everything (including you) is okay is the norm when you are trying to disconnect from the ambiguity of growing up with caregivers who aren’t emotionally available for you. Turning against yourself and preserving your image of them, makes sense when you have to rely on your caregivers to keep you alive. And thus, the cycle of blaming yourself while looking as if you have it all figured out, begins.

These days, congruence is the norm. In fact, I can barely tolerate incongruence existing inside of me. And as someone who joins people on their healing journey, I am always on the lookout for how their incongruence is keeping them from returning home to themselves. And for each of you reading this, I want to encourage you to tend to your own incongruence and as you are able, allow just a little more of yourself to be present.

To those of you who are tired of allowing incongruence to be the one thing you can count on, I see you.