Self-Permission Note Written by ChatGPT

This post is dedicated to my two brothers from other mothers who see me, even when my voice gets shrill enough to scare the squirrels. 

I've been feeling the masking in my actions lately. Who am I with these people isn't the same as who I am with others ... maybe even you. And lately I feel the weight of the pretending, an exhaustion that sends me seeking a hole to hide inside of.

It also sends me seeking excuses for why I can't make the group thing. Five decades of worrying what we'll talk about comes at me all at once. The not knowing is the scare so rather than not know the fodder of future conversation, I fill the air instead. In doing that I feel like I say too much, over and over, again and again. Ugh, regret sends my vagus nerve into overdrive and makes the elephant on my chest feel that much heavier. 

In college I learned about mirroring vocabulary and body language and how that builds trust from client to professional. I realized quickly that I was doing that already. Partly self taught out of survival instinct, and partly parent-taught with the "say cheese" or "be a good girl" or "quiet please". 

I get that this technique helps people fit in --it helped me for decades. But I've found the issue of who I am without the masks. Does anyone see that? Do they even want to? Ding ding ding. Found the root right there didn't I? It's that open-ended question that sends me a-seekin'.

So, here's a note to read before grouping up, before masking up, perhaps even to nudge me to leave that mask at home. Maybe freeze it in a bowl of water with the credit card I don't want to use.  

Self-Permission Note

I am done earning my right to exist by being pleasant, funny, or useful.
I am allowed to show up exactly as I am — quiet, tired, curious, raw, or still.

I don’t owe anyone the version of me they prefer.
If I speak, it’s because I have something real to say.
If I’m silent, it’s because I’m listening — to them, to life, or to myself.

I am not cold for conserving my energy.
I am not distant for needing peace.
I am simply done living on emotional overdrive.

The world asks for masks; the forest asks for presence.
I belong with the latter.
My peace doesn’t need an audience.

So today, I give myself permission to drop the performance.
To breathe.
To trust that the people who are meant to know me — truly know me — will recognize me without the costume.