Who Were You Before the World Told You Who to Be?

Peeling Off the BS to Unearth Your Badass Self

You know that saying, “You were born an original, don’t die a copy”? Yeah, I bet you’ve heard it. It’s one of those Instagrammable quotes that everyone nods to but does jack shit about. But today, we’re not just nodding. We’re diving into the deep end.

Look, from the moment you were born, society’s been trying to stuff you into boxes like you’re some last-minute Christmas gift — ugly wrapping paper and all. Labels, stereotypes, expectations, shit like that. So, what are we doing here? We’re going on a little archeological dig to find the “you” that got buried under all that societal manure.

Call it a mission, a quest, or whatever the hell you want, but by the end, you’re gonna unearth that genuine, unfiltered, 100% pure “you.” And no, we’re not looking for the “you” that your boss knows, or the “you” that still lives rent-free in your high school sweetheart’s head. Nah, we’re going for the gold:

The you before the world told you who to be.

So grab your metaphorical shovels and pickaxes, folks. We’ve got some digging to do.

The Cultural Costume Party

If you think about it — life’s quite a party, isn’t it? But not just any party — a cultural costume party. Picture it: a grand hall filled with people wearing masks, pretending to be someone they’re not. There’s Mr. Corporate, with his polished shoes and the personality of a cardboard box. And oh look, it’s Miss Perfection, with her on-fleek makeup and crippling self-doubt. You get the idea.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Masks are fun, especially when you can pretend to be a suave spy or a rockstar for a night. But here’s where the plot thickens. Most of us love these masks a bit too much. So much so that we start supergluing them to our faces.

The issue isn’t that we wear masks. Hell, sometimes, you need that armor to survive Aunt Karen’s political rants at family gatherings. The issue is we get so damn cozy in these costumes that we forget there’s an actual human being under there — a person with thoughts, feelings, and maybe a forgotten love for finger painting or building sandcastles.

“Fake it ’til you make it”

You know that phrase, right? Well, what if you fake it so much that you forget what you were trying to make in the first place?

That’s right, you end up like a method actor who’s gotten so deep into a role, they can’t find their way back.

And nobody wants to be stuck in character for the rest of their lives unless they’re getting an Oscar for it, and let’s face it, your life ain’t a Hollywood movie.

So, let’s not turn this cultural costume party into a lifelong commitment, shall we? Trust me, even Cinderella had to ditch her fancy gown to find her happy ending.

Childhood: The OG You

Now, let’s make a lil’ trip down to Memory Lane. Back to the glory days of childhood — when your biggest worry was whether you’d get the blue or the red popsicle. You remember that time, right? Back when you were the Original Gangster of your own tiny universe. Yep, the OG You.

As kids, we have this marvelous, sparkling ability to not give a single crap about what anyone thinks. It’s like we’re born with a Ph.D. in Authenticity, but somewhere down the line, we trade it in for a master’s degree in Bullshit.

Take Little Timmy, for instance. This kid wakes up one day and decides he wants to wear a tutu. Why? Who the hell knows, but he’s feelin’ it. So, he straps on that tutu and goes about his day. Mud puddle in the backyard? Timmy doesn’t tiptoe around it.

Nah, he dives head-first into that murky water like he’s searching for pirate treasure. And he does it all while wearing that glorious, now mud-splattered tutu.

Why? Because Little Timmy doesn’t give a rodent’s rear end about societal norms. He doesn’t know that boys “shouldn’t” wear tutus or that diving into mud puddles isn’t “proper behavior.” And even if he did, he wouldn’t care. His joy is unfiltered, untamed, like a wild horse that refuses to be broken.

And here’s the kicker: you were once a Little Timmy or a Tiny Tammy or whatever your pint-sized alter ego was called. You rocked your world without second-guessing, without worrying about the side-eye from Mrs. Johnson next door. But somewhere along the way, you traded your tutu for a tie, your mud puddles for mortgage payments.

Don’t you think it’s time to get a smidgen of that OG You back? I’m not saying you should dive into the nearest mud puddle — although, if that floats your boat, be my guest. I’m saying it’s time to remember the fearless kid you once were, the one who lived for the moment and didn’t let the world dictate the script. Because let’s be honest, that kid knew how to live.

Teenage Wasteland: The Start of the Crisis

And then suddenly you became a teenager. Bloody adolescence — the puberty-filled, angst-ridden sequel to your childhood. Remember how I said childhood is like having a Ph.D. in Authenticity? Yeah, well, the teenage years are when the universe barges in, Molotov cocktail in hand, and burns that diploma to a crisp. Welcome to the crisis years, my friend.

Adolescence is when conformity swoops in like a hawk on a field mouse. Suddenly, you’re not just you; you’re a label, a stereotype, a freakin’ category. “Oh, you can kick a ball? You’re the jock.” “You know what the square root of 144 is? Congrats, you’re the brainiac.” “You wear black and listen to music that makes your parents think you’re summoning demons? Hello, Rebel Without a Cause.”

And God forbid you don’t fit into any of these molds. What are you then? An outcast? A weirdo? Here’s the harsh truth: You become a chameleon, changing colors to blend in, even if those colors make you look like you’ve been hit by a psychedelic paintball gun.

Why do we do it? Simple: fitting in feels like a matter of life and death. I mean, nobody wants to be the lone wolf in the cafeteria, eating a PB&J sandwich while contemplating the existential dread of 11th grade. So, you cave. You contort. You cram yourself into these molds like a grown adult trying to fit into a kiddie swing.

Spoiler alert: it’s uncomfortable as hell, and you’re probably gonna get stuck.

But here’s what they don’t tell you: those molds? They’re garbage. They’re like those one-size-fits-all hats that never actually fit anyone. Being a jock doesn’t mean you can’t love poetry. Being a brainiac doesn’t mean you can’t shred on an electric guitar. Being a rebel doesn’t mean you can’t have a soft spot for rom-coms.

I think it’s high time to shatter those molds. Take a sledgehammer to ’em, if you have to. Because the real you is more complex, more nuanced, and a hell of a lot more interesting than any stereotype could ever capture. And don’t you forget it?

Adulthood: The Empire of ‘Shoulds’

And then adulthood slaps in your face. Alright, kids, put down the PlayStation controller and pick up your tax forms. You just landed in the realm of adulthood now. The land where your dreams go to die? Nah, not really, but let’s face it — adulthood is less about “following your bliss” and more about following an endless list of “shoulds.”

In your 20s and 30s, “should” becomes your unwelcome sidekick, like that friend who overstays their welcome and eats all your snacks. “You should have a stable job by now.” “You should be married with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.” “You should be investing in a 401(k), for crying out loud!”

Yeah, welcome to the Empire of “Shoulds,” where your self-worth is measured in LinkedIn endorsements and wedding invitations.

What’s on the menu at this grand buffet of bullshit expectations? Oh, let’s see. For starters, how about a career that slowly chips away at your soul but looks damn good on paper? Then, for the main course, a relationship where you check all the societal boxes but are secretly bored out of your skull. And for dessert, the ever-so-delicious pie of ‘doing what’s expected’ — best served with a dollop of existential despair.

The “shoulds” don’t just stop at the big stuff like careers and relationships. Nah, they infiltrate every crevice of your life. From what you wear to who you hang out with, to even what freaking TV shows you should be watching. (“What, you haven’t seen the latest hit show? Do you even have a life?”)

It’s as if adulthood is this twisted game show and the “shoulds” are the annoying hosts who won’t stop yelling, even during the commercial breaks. Except, for the plot twist: There are no commercial breaks. The “shoulds” are incessant, and loud, and they’ve got a stranglehold on your remote control.

But here’s the kicker:

Who the hell made these rules?

Last I checked, there’s no handbook for adulthood that says you must forfeit your individuality to join the rat race. You’ve got to stop treating these societal “shoulds” like they’re commandments etched in stone and start treating them like what they are — opinions.

And you know what they say about opinions; they’re like armpits — everyone’s got ’em, and they usually fucking stink.

How about we turn off the volume on the “shoulds,” shall we? Time to march to the beat of your own drum, even if it’s a little out of tune. Trust me, that’s where the music gets interesting.

The Turning Point: When Did It Get So Serious?

Suddenly you find yourself at the so-called “Turning Point”, that fabled, mythical moment when you’re gobsmacked by the realization that you’re about as familiar with yourself as you are with quantum physics. It’s the “Oh shit” epiphany, the wake-up call that makes you question whether you’ve been sleepwalking through your own life.

Was it a break-up? You know, the kind where you realize you’ve been more committed to the idea of love than the person you were actually with.

Or maybe it was a job loss that hurled you into an existential crisis, making you ponder if your entire identity was just your job title printed on some tacky laminated badge.

Heck, it might’ve been a random Tuesday when you looked in the mirror and thought, “Who the hell is that?”

You see, it doesn’t matter when or how it happens, because life doesn’t schedule these reality checks. They’re the pop quizzes of existence, and buddy, there’s no cheat sheet for this one.

You’re smacked with the harsh truth that you’ve become a tourist in your own life, taking pictures of moments you’re not even present for.

This Turning Point isn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Hell, it’s like a splash of cold water to the face when you’ve dozed off at the wheel. Suddenly, you’re alert, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the last churro at a theme park.

And that’s when it hits you:

When did life get so damn serious?

When did you trade your spontaneity for stability, your dreams for a dental plan?

The Turning Point is your chance to do something, anything, to reclaim the you that got sidelined in this marathon of “shoulds” and stereotypes. It’s the universe handing you a permission slip saying, “It’s okay to be lost, but it’s not okay to stay that way.”

You know, whether it’s a breakup, a job loss, or a random Tuesday, seize that Turning Point like it’s the last damn slice of pizza at a party. Take a big, messy bite and let the cheese of self-discovery ooze all over your life. It’s gonna be deliciously chaotic, but man, it’ll taste like freedom.

The Great Unmasking: Rediscovering You

Now we’ve reached the climax — the great unmasking. If life is a masquerade ball, then it’s time to rip off that itchy, sweaty mask that’s been smothering your true self. Don’t worry, there’s no drumroll or spotlight, but there should be because this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. Are you ready? Let’s get to unmasking.

First off, let’s talk self-inquiry, and no, I don’t mean stalking your own Instagram to see how cool you used to be. I mean asking yourself the hard questions, the ones that make you squirm like you’re sitting on a cactus.

“What do I really want?”

“What makes me happy?”

“Why am I doing what I’m doing?”

Pull out a journal, a voice recorder, or hell, even a bar napkin, and jot down those unfiltered thoughts. This isn’t a college essay; there’s no grading. The only rule is brutal, unvarnished honesty.

Next up: break those godforsaken routines. Sure, routines give us structure, like the scaffolding around a building. But if you’re not careful, that scaffolding becomes a cage. So go ahead, disrupt your patterns. Take a different route to work. Try a bizarre new hobby. Eat dessert for breakfast. Chaos is your new best friend, and guess what? It knows how to party.

And for the love of all things holy, learn to say “no.” I know, I know, it’s a two-letter word that feels as heavy as a bag of bricks, but here’s the deal: “No” is your passport to freedom. It’s your way of telling the world, “Hey, I’ve got boundaries, and you better respect them.” Saying “no” isn’t about being a jerk; it’s about preserving your time, energy, and sanity.

So the next time someone asks you to do something that you’d rather not, muster up the courage and just say it. Trust me, the world won’t implode. If anything, your world will get a bit more spacious.

Keep in mind that The Great Unmasking is not a one-time event; it’s an ongoing journey. It’s not about finding yourself; it’s about creating yourself, over and over again. And the tools you need — self-inquiry, a dash of chaos, and the mighty “no” — are right there in your toolkit. All you’ve gotta do is use them.

Unmasking yourself is like skinny-dipping in a sea of uncertainty. It’s awkward, it’s liberating, and there’s a good chance you’ll step on something weird. But who cares? You’re rediscovering you, and let me tell you, you’re a treasure worth finding.

Dealing with the Backlash

So, once you start prancing around like the truest version of yourself, not everyone’s going to throw you a parade. In fact, some people might toss you a couple of metaphorical tomatoes.

Yup, we’re talking about the backlash, the raised eyebrows, the “Who does he think he is?” chatter. Get ready for it, ’cause it’s coming, and it’s about as welcome as a fart in an elevator.

First off, let’s be clear: Their discomfort isn’t your problem. You’re not running a popularity contest; you’re running a “Being Authentically Me” marathon. And in this race, the only person you need to beat is your previous, conforming self.

People who get rattled by the real you are often wrestling with their own authenticity — or lack thereof. Tough cookies, my friend.

But what to do about Aunt Karen, who misses the “old you” and won’t shut up about it? Or your coworker Bob, who’s taken it upon himself to be the morality police? First rule: Don’t flip a table. Seriously, tables are heavy, and you don’t need a hernia. Instead, flip the script.

How? By setting boundaries firmer than day-old Jell-O. Make it clear what you will and won’t tolerate. You don’t have to be confrontational, but you don’t have to be a doormat either. A simple “I appreciate your concern, but this is what’s best for me right now” can work wonders.

If the naysayers keep nay-saying, you’ve got two options. One, limit your exposure. You wouldn’t willingly stick your hand in a blender, so why willingly subject yourself to emotional whiplash? And two, up your compassion game. Yeah, I said it. Most critics are just frustrated directors of their own lives. Understanding that can soften the blow and keep your rage from boiling over.

Look, not everyone’s going to dig the authentic you, and that’s more than okay — it’s friggin’ fantastic. Because the people who do vibe with the real you? Those are your people. Your tribe. And they’re worth more than a stadium full of fair-weather fans.

And you know what? Let the haters sip on their Haterade. You’ve got better things to do, like live your life as the genuine, unmasked, kick-ass individual you are. And if that pisses some people off? Well, hand them a cookie, ’cause like I said: tough cookies.

The Payoff: Authenticity’s Rewards

If you’ve reached this stage, you realize the time has arrived for the Big Payoff. And no, I’m not talking about winning the lottery or discovering you’ve got a rich uncle in some far-off land. I’m talking about the goldmine that is living authentically. Trust me, the perks are sweeter than grandma’s apple pie and twice as satisfying.

First on the roster: Freedom. And not the bald-eagle-flying-over-a-fireworks-display kind, but the freedom of not giving a flying fudge about societal norms that don’t serve you. It’s like shedding a skin you didn’t know was strangling you. You’ll feel lighter, more alive, and guess what? You’ll have room to breathe, to explore, to live. You’re not chained to other people’s judgments and holy cannoli, does that feel good?

But wait, there’s more! How about better relationships? When you’re authentically you, you attract people who are drawn to the real deal, not some knockoff version you’ve paraded around.

Your relationships deepen because people know where they stand with you. There’s no guessing, no drama — just pure, unfiltered connection. It’s like swiping right on life and getting a match every damn time.

And let’s not forget your career. Whether you’re a 9-to-5er or a freelance juggernaut, being authentic infuses your work with a unique flavor that’s all you. Your projects become passion projects.

Your tasks are tackled with enthusiasm — or at least, not with dread. People want to work with you, not just because you’re competent, but because you’re also a joy to be around. It’s like adding hot sauce to a bland meal — suddenly, everything’s got a kick.

Last but definitely not the least, the mother of all rewards: peace of mind. That’s right, the big kahuna, the jewel in the crown. When you’re living true to yourself, there’s a sense of peace that washes over you like a warm shower after a day of rolling in the mud.

You sleep better, you worry less, and you enjoy the simple things more because you’re not entangled in a web of shoulds and shouldn’ts. You’re simply, beautifully, unapologetically you.

Alright, my friend, this is it — the grand finale, the last hurrah. You’ve navigated through the maze of masks, dodged the slings and arrows of societal bullshit, and eyeballed the mouthwatering rewards of being the bona fide you. So what’s left? Just one thing:

Start the freakin’ journey, man.

No more dilly-dallying, no more “I’ll start tomorrow,” or “when the stars align.” The stars are busy, dude; they’ve got their own cosmic drama to deal with. The invitation is open, right here, right now, and it’s as exclusive as it gets. Only you can RSVP for your own life. So what are you waiting for? Get out there and strut your stuff, warts and all. Your warts are awesome, by the way; they make you you.

So, to put the cherry on top of this enlightenment sundae, let me drop this timeless gem:

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

And let’s be real, most of them are overrated anyway. The world doesn’t need another carbon copy; it needs the irreplaceable masterpiece that is you.

Go tear off that mask. Kick those ‘shoulds’ to the curb. Dance in your own parade and let your freak flag fly. Life’s too damn short to be anyone else.