The Origin: Who Are You, Really?
Hi My Friend,
Who are you, really? What’s your favorite food? Not the one everyone loves, but the one that makes you feel comforted on a quiet night? What color makes your soul exhale? What’s your favorite way to spend a still afternoon when no one’s asking anything of you? What actually brings you joy, not what looks impressive, not what earns applause, but what makes you feel alive?
One of my mentors once asked me all those questions in one breath. And I froze. Not because I didn’t have answers, but because my answers weren’t mine. They were a collage of borrowed opinions, a reflection of other people’s expectations. I realized I had built an identity around what felt safe for others, not what felt true for me.
I learned early that being myself wasn’t always safe. The spirit we have inside is sometimes too much for the world built to contain it. I was bullied for being different. Too loud. Too curious. Too sensitive. Too trusting. Too forgiving. Too much.
Even in cheerleading, something that should’ve been pure joy, I learned to dim my light. I downplayed my tumbling so the other girls wouldn’t bully me. I muted my excitement, softened my sparkle. My mom, trying to protect me, would drive me to Plato’s Closet to buy name-brand clothes, hoping the bullying would stop. She wanted me to fit in, and I did too. Because when you’re young, survival means belonging.
But belonging often comes at the cost of authenticity.
So I became a master shape-shifter. I learned how to read rooms, what tone to use, which stories were safe to tell, and when to smile to make others comfortable. I downplayed my intelligence so I wouldn’t intimidate. I learned to perform small talk instead of truth because the world rewards comfort over honesty. Even as I grew up, earned degrees, built a practice, started businesses, and wrote a book, helping others heal,. I realized I was still living behind layers of performance. And then, in my late twenties, the truth cracked open.
I learned I was ADHD, OCD, neurodivergent, and autistic. Just might as well write my name in the DSM-5. And as a therapist, I can tell you: those are just words for spirits who don’t fit the mold and I treat my therapy clients with that same methodology. For the first time in my life, everything made sense. I wasn’t broken; I was beautifully wired.
Many may not know but my fathers side ancestorial roots are from the Cherokee Indian tribe. In many Indigenous cultures, those we label as “neurodivergent” were seen as sacred, spirit-touched, dreamers, or bridge-walkers between worlds. Their sensitivities weren’t something to fix; they were medicine. That truth has always resonated with me deeply, because even as a child, and now as an adult, I’ve been able to see beneath things. When someone speaks, I don’t just hear their words; I see the four or five layers underneath them. I can feel the truth hiding behind the smile, sense the fear inside the silence, and read the energy that sits beneath their tone. It’s like a veil gets lifted, and I see people’s true intentions, their true words, their true meanings, everything.
And while that is a gift, it’s also a heavy one. Because imagine walking through life and seeing everything. The masks. The manipulation. The quiet grief people carry but never name. The moments someone says “I’m happy for you,” but you can feel the jealousy sitting underneath. The way someone laughs but their eyes betray pain. The truth behind the lies people tell themselves just to survive. Now imagine being wired that way and expected to function, to sit at dinner tables, work in boardrooms, live in a world where you’re constantly seeing what others can’t or won’t. It’s a blessing and a burden to have a moral compass that feels everything, a soul that wants justice, and a heart that wants to run from darkness it can’t unsee.
There were years I felt like I didn’t belong here, not because I didn’t love people, but because I could see them too clearly. I could see what they hid, what they feared, what they didn’t want to face. And that sensitivity used to break me. But now I know, it’s not my job to fix it. It’s my purpose to witness it, to help others find their own truth beneath their masks, and to remind them that what makes them different is often what makes them divine. That realization wasn’t a diagnosis, it was liberation. I finally understood that what I had spent years hiding was never my flaw. It was my superpower.
But I had spent years masking.
Masking is something nearly everyone does, and most don’t even realize it. It’s the subtle ways we hide our true selves to be accepted, to feel safe, or to avoid judgment. It’s the smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. The “I’m fine” text you send when your heart feels heavy. It’s the way you hold your breath walking into a room, bracing to become who you think they need you to be. As a therapist, I see it every single day. Masking looks like the woman who overachieves to avoid rejection, she has the perfect job, the perfect relationship, the perfect Instagram feed, but cries in the shower because she feels like she’s living someone else’s life.
It looks like the man who jokes his way through pain because being funny feels safer than being honest. It’s the mother who keeps the house spotless because she was taught love is earned through doing, not being. It’s the entrepreneur who never rests because their worth is tied to productivity. It’s the people-pleaser who says yes to everything and silently breaks under the weight of everyone else’s needs. It’s the client who smiles politely in my office, saying “I’m okay,” but their body tells the truth, the tight jaw, the trembling hands, the shallow breath.
Masking is emotional armor, but armor is heavy. It keeps out the pain, yes, but it also keeps out the love. And this is your wake-up call, because authenticity is the secret. It’s the medicine. It’s the freedom you’ve been searching for.
The world may reward masks, but it also tries to destroy authenticity. We see it everywhere, even in how we communicate. On social media, we filter our faces and polish our captions until they no longer sound like us. We’ve entered a time where people talk more like ChatGPT than from the heart, perfectly composed, edited for approval, stripped of truth and soul.
But authenticity isn’t supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to be real. So here’s the truth: you don’t have to rip the mask off all at once. Unmasking isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you’ve always been, safely, slowly, compassionately. Start small. Notice where you shrink. When you catch yourself softening your truth, laughing when something isn’t funny, or saying “I’m fine” when you’re not, pause. Take a deep breath. Feel your chest rise. Exhale, and whisper to yourself: “I’m safe to be me.”
That’s how it begins. Not with perfection, but with presence. Each time you choose honesty over performance, you peel back one more layer and step closer to your truth.
I wore every mask well, until I couldn’t anymore. My body finally started screaming through panic, burnout, and disconnection. That’s when I found my breath… and Mother Ayahuasca. Ayahuasca cracked me open. It reminded me that truth doesn’t need to be taught, it needs to be remembered. And 9D Breathwork gave me the map home. Through breath, sound, and frequency, I could feel the masks dissolving one by one.
It wasn’t about becoming someone new, it was about coming home to who I’d always been. For the first time, I could just be. No roles. No proving. No pretending. Just me, raw, feeling, real. And maybe that’s why I share this. Because I know I’m not alone. I know what it’s like to live decades as a version the world accepts while secretly aching for the freedom to just exist as you are.
So I’ll ask you again…
Who are you, really? Who are you when the roles fall away? Who are you when no one expects you to hold it all together? Who are you when you stop performin, and start breathing?
If these words stir something inside you, if you feel that quiet pull to remember, I invite you to join us for a journey designed for this exact awakening.
On November 6th at Hall Park Hotel we are hosting The Origin: Return to Your Soul’s Truth. A 9D Breathwork experience created to strip away the conditioning, release the masks, and bring you home to yourself.
And if you are looking for something deeper and are further along in your remembering we have Reclaim Your Light Retreats, that are tailored for this very thing.
Let’s remember who we are. Together. We will hold the space, just walk through the door.
With love,
Dr. Rachel Sims & Mama Lisa
Breath by Design | Uncomplicated Therapy
