There was a time I moved through life like I was playing a role written by someone else—smiling when I wanted to cry, shrinking when I needed to expand, performing instead of existing. It wasn’t malicious or even intentional. It was survival.
But I’ve come to realize that survival is not the same as living. Truly living that is.
Growing Up Hiding
To get by, I had to hide myself. Well my truest and happiest self, that is, from the world. The maintenance of keeping my authentic self kept away was a small price to pay to avoid the verbal abuse and irate yelling matches. I’d hide every part of who I was, who I am… how I talked, how I dressed, how I existed. I bent myself into shapes that felt unnatural just to avoid rocking the boat—especially around the people who were supposed to love me the most. I learned early that being myself came with consequences, so I did what so many gay kids do: I got really good at disappearing in plain sight though we all know I wasn’t born to blend like most.
I was never truly allowed to be the person I could be when I’m happiest—at least not until I left my family behind. I always felt that my life was limited. Like I could do so much but I was being chained by the shame my family would feel if everyone knew that I love who I love. That my happiness was the cost paid to maintain their honor. Breaking from this mindset was the first step toward freedom.
It took years to unlearn the idea that I had to earn love through achievement or perfection. It still challenges me today with the people who I trust and care about. I feel it with coworkers, colleagues, people I’ve just met, even people I’ve known my entire life. I think having to relearn, or maybe learn it for the first time, how to accept kindness, knowledge, maybe love even. Accepting that people are most often than not after something when they offer their time and professions. They actually just want to be with you for who you are to them.
It sucks, but the truth is in all of this overcoming family bonds, denying my inherent need for paternal and maternal nurturers, stepping away from the things that hold me back and start learning to live for what makes me my best self. My happiness self.
I don’t think I ever felt fully happy until the day I realized this:
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, no matter what award, grant, or trophy I win—at the end of the day, I’m still me.
I’m gay.
That’s not changing.
And more importantly—it’s not supposed to.
And it’s not my responsibility to make anyone else comfortable with who I love. That was never my job.
Once I figured that out, everything got lighter. Life started to feel like mine.
Identity Isn’t Just One Thing
As a gay Floridian, a ginger, an artist, and someone who’s faced both health challenges and healing, my identity is layered. It’s not just about who I love, but how I live—with heart, with color and vibrancy, with truth and loyalty to the things I care about and the people I love.
Living authentically has meant shedding the old expectations I inherited that left my life limited. It’s meant most recently that choosing self-respect over approval brings the most pure form of self love. It’s meant becoming louder in some rooms, and walking away from others entirely.
I redefined strength not as “toughness,” but as the courage to be soft in a world that wants you hardened.
Loving Yourself Isn’t Always Pretty
Let’s be real: loving yourself is not a spa day and a sticky note affirmation (though I still love both). It’s choosing yourself when it would be easier to disappear. It’s setting boundaries that might hurt at first. It’s telling the truth—even when your voice shakes.
And sometimes, it’s reminding yourself that you are not responsible for anyone else’s emotions—except your own.
(And, let’s be honest, my dog’s.)
Not only that but would I even be in a moment of time and space where I could handle anyone else’s emotions right now? No way buddy. Call your therapist.
I’ve lost people in this process. I’ve also found people who love me in the ways I always hoped someone would. It’s kind of a strange sensation to just be taken as you are because someone cares enough to.
The most important thing is that, I’ve found myself. I love myself.
My Life Now
Living authentically means I say no more often. It means I move slower, with more intention. It means I surround myself with people who celebrate me—not just tolerate me. It means I spend more time in nature, more time creating, more time alone—but not lonely.
It means I wake up and get to be me every day, without shame, without hiding, without apology.
That’s not just healing. That’s freedom.
If You’re On Your Own Journey…
Here’s what I want you to know: You don’t have to arrive. You just have to start listening.
Let go of performing. Let go of trying to be acceptable.
Your truth, your joy, your weirdness, your love—it’s all enough. Always was.
—John Palmer Payne
