“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.”
― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter
One of my main goals in My Tattooed Soul is to help readers identify their core values and recognize the masks they wear. For much of my life, I hid behind masks of my own. Even after learning to name them and making a conscious effort to remove them, I still find that they sometimes return uninvited.
When I talk about this issue with friends and colleagues, I am often struck by how many insist they are the same person in every setting and with every audience. Yet I often see those masks at work in real time, even when the people wearing them cannot—or will not—recognize how differently they behave from one situation to another.
I will use examples from my own life to illustrate the masks, both simple and grand, that so many of us use to cope with the world on someone else’s terms:
THE MASK JUST FOR ME
I have what is, I hope, a rare habit: I sometimes wear a mask even when I am alone. My truest self, as best as I understand my core values and strengths, wants to love and be loved deeply. I often cry when I think about the struggles my friends and family are facing, or even when I see news stories that show human suffering.
Yet just as often, with no one there to witness those tears, I force myself to stop and “man up.” I tell myself I am being ridiculous — that I am wasting emotion on things I cannot change and indulging feelings that serve no practical purpose. In those moments, I retreat into the stoic mask I spent years perfecting in my youth and shut the emotions down entirely. After all, I am no longer a child; I am an attorney and one of the best in my field. If I let myself feel this much in private, I wonder how I could possibly hold myself together when others are there to see it. This is the mask that often stares back at me from the mirror when it is time to schedule another appointment with my psychiatrist. When it tells me not to bother, I know it is time to rip it off and make the appointment.
Not everyone has a “just for me” mask. If you do, I strongly recommend considering counseling or another form of support to help you determine whether you need more than a book of essays can provide.
Self-questioning — even disliking parts of yourself at times — can be normal and even healthy. It is often part of how we grow. The concern begins when that discomfort turns into hiding from yourself. Warning signs may include:
- struggling to admit to yourself who you are at your core;
- feeling the need to bury that identity even when no one else is around; or
- sensing that the distance between your inner life and your outward self is growing harder to manage.
Those patterns can point to issues that deserve attention, whether psychological, chemical, or neurological. I am not a doctor, and this is not a diagnosis—only a reflection from someone who has lived through it. The longer we wear a mask, the harder it becomes to remove. And the masks we wear to fool ourselves often do the greatest damage, both to us and to the people around us.
THE MASK FOR MY FAMILY AND CLOSEST FRIENDS
The mask I wear around my immediate family and oldest friends appears less often than the others, but it took me the longest to learn how to remove. During my most formative years, I could let glimpses of my darkness show around strangers or enemies, but my fragile sense of stability depended on my loved ones never seeing how deeply broken I believed myself to be.
I could spend an afternoon in violent fights, imagining how to kill my classmates, or devising ways to end my life without making it look like suicide. But the moment I walked through the front door, I had to become the happy, well-adjusted child my family deserved. Tears were put away. Bruises were covered or explained. My eyes never hardened into the stare that frightened others. I was quiet, polite, and affectionate. Even when I was alone and convinced that the real me was unlovable and unworthy of existing, I also believed I could not bring myself to burden my family with that reality. In some ways, this was my true self trying to remove the mask. Despite feeling unworthy of love — and having little desire to love “my neighbors” — I still wanted to love my family as well as I could. At the same time, I selfishly did not want to lose the undeserved love they gave me. I hated myself for accepting love that I believed was built on a false identity. Still, deserved or not, that love restrained me. It kept me from acting on horrific fantasies and impulses. I was certain that if my family ever saw what I believed was underneath the mask, their love would vanish, and nothing short of death would keep my name from being whispered alongside figures like Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer.
Today, when the mask is off, I speak openly about my struggles and fears. That does not mean I share everything or let every private concern spill into view. For a time — especially with my wife — I worried that holding some things back was simply a new version of the old mask. Over time, though, I have come to understand that loving friends and family means being honest without becoming codependent or emotionally unstable. There is a difference between sharing a burden with someone you love and dropping it in their lap for them to carry. Loving my family and friends means finding a balance between seeking the help I need and becoming an emotional black hole. It also means leaving space for them to share their own needs and concerns, which is difficult if I am always unloading mine. At this point, what remains is less a mask than a carefully applied layer of makeup — something that softens the sharpest edges without hiding who I am.
I know I am truly “mask off” when someone asks how my day was and my answer is neither “fine” nor a breathless recap that begins, “Let me start with when I woke up and stubbed my toe….” That second response may sound like honesty, but not when my core value is Love. In My Tattooed Soul, I wrote about my desire to love and be loved, and emotional dumping is often less about openness than about trying to prove that I am still lovable when I am a mess — or trying to prove how honest I am by oversharing. That is not an act of love toward the person receiving it. We all need occasional moments of release, but those moments should be the exception, not the rule.
I know that I have truly taken off the mask when:
- I express genuine emotion — smiling or laughing because it is real, not because it feels socially required.
- I cry when it is appropriate without hiding it, but also without forcing it simply because others are crying.
- I trust that nothing I do in that moment will break or block the love between us.
If you believe you are always fully yourself around friends, consider how often social situations invite subtle forms of self-editing. These common examples show how easily people hide parts of themselves not through outright lies, but through omission, redirection, or selective disclosure.
- Entertainment preferences: Joe spends a weekend binge-watching Hallmark movies, then meets his long-time college friends at a bar. When the conversation turns to recently seen films, he mentions only action movies starring Dwayne Johnson or Bruce Willis because those feel more “manly,” and he does not want to be embarrassed.
- Marriage struggles: Three days earlier, Kathy had a serious argument with her husband of less than a year about whether to have a baby, and they still are not speaking. She worries the conflict may signal deeper problems in the marriage. At brunch with her mother and her pregnant sister, she does not lie, but she carefully redirects every question away from her relationship, so they do not see her as a failing.
- Good news withheld: Stacie has just earned a major promotion that will ease financial pressure for her and her wife. At dinner with longtime friends who are having a hard time, she avoids sharing the news and instead focuses on empathizing with their struggles. She may tell herself she is just being considerate and avoiding awkwardness, but she is still hiding a meaningful part of her life.
- Hidden hardship: Michael lost his job three weeks ago and has been taking day labor jobs and driving for Uber at night to keep his children from finding out. He tells himself they do not need to be burdened by his setbacks. So, he puts on a cheerful face and hides his exhaustion rather than showing them that falling down is hard, getting back up is harder, and that struggle is part of how he is rebuilding.
MY SOCIAL MASK
Even apart from my mental health challenges and anxieties, I am one of the most introverted people I know. Being around people exhausts me but I still want to love others well and make sure they feel that love. When I am most genuinely myself, that usually looks like quiet, meaningful conversations with one or two people at a time. I often use humor — especially dad jokes — to keep things light, but I am just as happy to sit quietly, listen closely, and let someone share what is weighing on them. In larger groups, I naturally speak less, offer humor when it fits, and take mental notes about who I should follow up with or pray for later.
When my social mask is on, I can become the loudest and most talkative person in the room. I move quickly from person to person or group to group, already armed with something I want to say or a joke I want to land, and getting those things out can start to matter more than listening. Wearing that mask makes being around people even more exhausting, and I try not to rely on it. Still, certain situations tend to trigger it:
- When the gathering centers on me: At events such as a birthday party or housewarming, I feel an almost unbreakable expectation to remain at the center of things rather than stepping aside for a long one-on-one conversation with a particular guest. Social norms are often difficult for me to read, and this is one I still do not fully understand.
- When I feel I have failed someone: If I have recently argued with one of my daughters or lost my temper at work, I can swing too far in the other direction and put on an exaggerated display of friendliness and exuberance to compensate.
- When I am around potential clients or referral partners: If I do not know them well, I can feel pressure to prove how charming I am instead of trusting that my genuine care and thoughtfulness are enough.
- When I am struggling to manage my bipolar disorder: I sometimes fall back on this old form of self-medication. My fear of rejection and the stigma surrounding mental health can make it feel easier for people to assume I have had too much to drink — which, strangely, carries less stigma — than to know I am simply trying to hold myself together until I can step away and decompress.
Have you ever pretended to like something just to fit in—whether to sit with the popular kids at school or join a conversation with someone you hoped to impress? Have you talked about politics not because you cared, but because you wanted to seem informed and intelligent?
I have seen friendships, romantic relationships, and business relationships unravel because people wear masks around strangers. When a connection begins with curated versions of both people, it can only deepen so far before the truth has to emerge. If the people behind those masks are fundamentally incompatible, the relationship often breaks—and it may not break cleanly. So if you are naturally loud and energetic, do not present yourself as meek and expect others to adjust later. If you dislike fantasy and science fiction, do not pretend Lord of the Rings interests you—especially if you have no desire to be drawn into hours of movies you would hate. And if you are happiest spending a quiet evening at home in sweats, do not build your social life around spaces meant for outdoor adventurers or ballroom dancers.
The point is simple: social settings are one of the main places where people hide behind masks—sometimes several at once. We may tell ourselves it is still “really me,” just a “situational” version. But if you have to switch that version on and then remember which version you used with which person, it is not really you. There will always be situations that feel uncomfortable. The goal is not to avoid discomfort altogether, but to face it as yourself whenever possible. Here are a few examples:
- Professional settings: You may need to attend a conference full of people you barely know. The event may be designed not only to help you improve your craft, but also to encourage you to connect with potential clients or referral partners. If you are like me, you may avoid the biggest groups and instead look for quieter spaces where you can have a few meaningful conversations. If you are like a colleague of mine, you may gather as many people as possible and invite them into an energetic discussion about the projects you care about. Either approach can be genuine. What would not be genuine is trying to wear the other person’s style as a mask.
- Dating and friendships: If you are trying to start a romantic relationship or make friends in a new place, it can be tempting to present yourself as what you think others want. You might fill out a dating profile with safer, more popular answers and hope to reveal the truth later. Or you might join a social group built around interests you do not actually share just because it seems like an efficient way to meet people. But lasting relationships have to be built on truth. Be honest about who you are, be patient, and look for communities that genuinely fit you—or create one if it does not exist yet. Stepping outside your comfort zone can be healthy; pretending to care about something you do not is something else entirely.
- Supporting people you love: Sometimes authenticity does not mean staying home. You may need to show up for a friend or family member even when you know you do not fit naturally with the crowd. Unless your presence would truly harm them or harm you, love may call you to be there anyway. I have seen powerful examples of this over the years: parents with strong religious convictions attending their child’s same-sex wedding because they love their child more than they disagree with the ceremony, or nonreligious friends attending my baptism because they knew it mattered to me. In those moments, they did not pretend to be someone else. They simply showed up with sincerity, support, and restraint.
MY WORK MASK
Work is one of the places where people are most likely to wear a mask. It is also one of the hardest settings in which to remove one. The stakes feel high, and the consequences of being misunderstood or out of step can be intimidating.
Every workplace comes with rules, values, and expectations you did not create and may not fully share. Your job does not need to align perfectly with your core values for you to work without a mask, but it cannot stand in direct opposition to them. If, for example, you value individuality and self-expression above all else, a workplace with strict rules about uniforms, appearance, tattoos, and scripted interactions may leave you feeling unable to show who you are. Over time, that disconnect can become deeply discouraging.
I wrestled with this tension in my current work. My core value is love, and at first I struggled to reconcile that with working at a law firm that I assumed cared more about money than about doing good. I now know that my first impression was incomplete, and I am grateful that I can often move through the firm without a mask on. But it took time to see the bigger picture.
The firm’s mission was actually closely aligned with my values: helping people avoid institutionalization, destitution, and becoming a burden on their loved ones. The problem was not the mission itself. The problem was my limited frame of reference. I was new to the legal world, and the fees clients paid seemed enormous to me. I saw daily pressure to bill more hours, bring in more revenue, and increase production, but I did not yet see the human outcomes on the other side of that work.
At that stage, I mostly saw tasks and invoices. I knew the work mattered, but I did not yet witness clients arriving in crisis and leaving with their lives restored. I also saw fees that, from the perspective of a former daycare teacher, felt staggering—sometimes close to a year of gross income. What I could not yet see were the clients receiving the same kind of help for far less, or sometimes for almost nothing, because they truly could not afford more.
For a long time, I arrived at work already fastening different masks into place. One was the yes-man mask: keep your head down, follow directions, and do not question anything. Another was the I’ll find the money mask: focus on the cases with untouched deposits and prioritize what generated revenue, even when other cases pulled more strongly at my attention. Another was the grand financial schemer mask: brainstorm new products and pricing structures, calculating whether certain services would be more profitable on flat fees or hourly billing.
What none of those masks gave me was joy in the work itself.
Over time, I began to understand that my boss, Rajiv Nagaich, was not driven merely by profit. He was genuinely passionate about helping Americans think differently about retirement, plan wisely for it, and live it with greater security and dignity. He also cared deeply about his staff, not as tools for building wealth, but as people.
As I moved into more client-facing roles, I began to see what I had missed. I saw clients arrive in tears and leave with relief, hope, and changed lives. I also started noticing how my boss invested in the people around him, helping staff members pursue their dreams and navigate their struggles. Later, as I moved from paralegal and legal intern to department lead and law partner, I came to understand why revenue and billing mattered so much. They were not simply about profit; they were what made it possible to sustain the staff and serve clients who needed financial flexibility.
One of the clearest examples was my habit of discounting fees for nearly every client I represented. I told myself I was expressing love by easing their burden. Eventually, Rajiv pointed out what I had failed to see: if we did not charge clients who could afford to pay, we would not have the revenue needed to support our staff or extend pro bono and low bono help to clients who genuinely needed it. I had been so focused on loving each client in front of me that I was neglecting other people my work was meant to serve.
That lesson changed the way I think about authenticity at work. Going mask-free does not mean rejecting every value or expectation a workplace has. It means finding ways to integrate your values with the responsibilities and realities of the job.
If you feel you must be someone else to keep your job and you hate that version of yourself, it may help to ask a few honest questions:
- Do I fully understand the rules and expectations of this workplace, or am I reacting to assumptions and first impressions?
- Are there small, realistic ways to bring my identity and values into better alignment with the work I do?
- Is there a different role within this organization that would allow me to work more authentically over time?
- If not, is there other work that would fit my values better, even if it comes with tradeoffs in pay or prestige?
That final question can be especially difficult. Money may be tight, the job market may be uncertain, and many people do not have the freedom to leave work that feels misaligned. For much of my marriage, my family lived very frugally and sometimes anxiously from month to month. I know what it is to make hard choices, ask for help, and weigh dignity against necessity.
I will not pretend that everyone can simply walk away from a job that does not fit. Many people must take the work available to them because of limited training, financial pressure, discrimination, language barriers, disability, health challenges, or other realities that narrow their options. My hope is that everyone can eventually find work that provides both financial stability and a better fit for their values and strengths. But basic needs — shelter, food, and safety — will often come first.
So remove the mask when you can. And when you cannot, do what you must to remember who you are underneath it.
WAYS TO BE INTENTIONAL ABOUT REMOVING YOUR MASKS
Many people want a simple formula for personal growth. I can offer one practical approach, but it is neither easy nor the only path. If you want to remove your masks intentionally, try working through the process below one area of your life at a time.
- Choose one or two trusted people and tell them what you are trying to change so they can help keep you accountable. This may feel especially awkward if they are among the people around whom you want to remove a mask.
- Identify the behaviors in each area of your life that feel false, and name why they feel false.
- Describe what your behavior would look like if it reflected your values and your true sense of self.
- Identify any authentic behaviors that might still need to be adapted or toned down to fit the situation well.
- Pick one or two behaviors at a time and practice changing them consistently in your interactions.
- Once those changes begin to feel more natural, choose one or two more.
- Be willing to adjust course if your efforts are not working or if the behaviors you thought were more authentic still feel false.
- Expect the process to be difficult. You may struggle, fail, or feel awkward for a while, but those challenges are often part of lasting change.
- Return to step 1 and repeat the process as needed.