Reclaiming the Parts of Me I Hid to Survive

For a long time, I believed that certain parts of me weren’t welcome in this world.

I believed I had to be easy to love—

quiet, agreeable, polished.

I believed being “too much” was dangerous.

Too sensitive.

Too passionate.

Too curious.

Too emotional.

So, I hid those parts away.

Not because I wanted to—

but because I learned I had to.

And for a while, hiding worked.

I was accepted.

Liked.

Even praised.

But I was also disappearing.

🔒 The Survival Self

When you're young and impressionable, you learn quickly what makes you feel safe.

Maybe it’s staying quiet when conflict rises.

Maybe it’s excelling in school to earn love.

Maybe it’s caretaking others at the expense of yourself.

These strategies don’t come from weakness.

They come from wisdom—

from a nervous system that knew how to survive.

And so, we build a “safe self”—a version of us that the world seems to prefer.

But the cost?

The real you gets buried under layers of performance.

And one day, you forget what it felt like to be whole.

🎭 The Masks I Wore

I became the version of myself people wanted to see.

The overachiever

The peacemaker

The emotionally “low-maintenance” friend

The one who could handle anything

But under those masks was someone tired.

Someone who longed to feel held instead of always holding.

Someone who had big feelings, big dreams, big truths—and no room to express them.

I wasn’t lying about who I was.

I just wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Because the world taught me early on:

“Be likable. Not honest.”

“Be pleasant. Not passionate.”

“Be easy. Not real.”

🧩 The Parts I Hid

Some of the things I buried:

My sensitivity (because it was called weakness)

My anger (because it was labeled “unattractive”)

My creativity (because it wasn’t “practical”)

My voice (because speaking up made others uncomfortable)

My boundaries (because saying no felt selfish)

But those weren’t flaws.

They were gifts.

And they didn’t disappear—they just went underground, waiting for me to remember them.

🌱 The Reclamation

Reclaiming yourself doesn’t happen all at once.

It begins in whispers.

In quiet refusals to keep hiding.

It looks like:

Crying without apologizing for it

Saying “no” without over-explaining

Wearing what you want, not what’s expected

Writing what you actually feel, not what sounds wise

Letting go of relationships that only love your survival self

It’s terrifying, at first.

Because the fear of rejection runs deep.

But with each small act of honesty,

something miraculous happens:

You come home to yourself.

💔 The Grief of Becoming Whole

What no one tells you is that reclaiming yourself often involves grief.

Grieving the years you spent in hiding.

Grieving the people who only knew the edited version of you.

Grieving the opportunities you passed on to stay small.

And that’s okay.

Grief isn’t proof that you’re doing it wrong.

It’s proof that you’re finally honoring what was once buried.

To become whole, you have to welcome not just your joy—but also your sorrow, your rage, your confusion, your dreams.

🛠️ How I Keep Reclaiming, Every Day

Here are the practices that help me stay connected to my truth:

Journaling my “unfiltered” self.

No edits. No logic. Just what’s real in the moment.

Inner child check-ins.

Asking, “What part of me feels left behind right now?”

Saying what I mean.

Even if my voice shakes. Even if it’s awkward.

Creating just for me.

Not for likes. Not for approval. Just for the joy of it.

Letting people misunderstand me.

Not everyone will love the real me—and that’s freedom, not failure.

🔥 Your Hidden Parts Are Sacred

The parts of you that you hid to survive?

They didn’t die.

They became quiet.

They’ve been waiting—not for permission, but for reclamation.

Your fire.

Your softness.

Your wildness.

Your voice.

These aren’t liabilities.

They’re the essence of you.

You didn’t lose them.

You protected them—until you were strong enough to bring them back.

💬 Final Words: You Were Never Meant to Stay Hidden

If you’re reading this and feeling that ache in your chest—

that whisper that says, “I miss me,”—

listen.

That’s not weakness.

That’s remembrance.

You don’t have to stay buried beneath what the world expected of you.

You’re allowed to be loud.

To be soft.

To take up space.

To change your mind.

To return to the self that always existed beneath the survival.

This isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about finally becoming someone true.

Welcome back.

You were never too much.

You were never not enough.

You were simply waiting to be reclaimed.