For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be someone else. I’d look at other women and girls, sickened by my jealousy and feeling desperate to look, be, act and sound just like them.

I always thought there’d be this moment when everything clicked into place. Maybe when I graduated or got that job or turned 30, I’d wake up one day and be her – that glossy, grown-up woman who had everything together.

It’s the inspiration for the tag line of this blog ‘understanding and becoming’, because I’m always on the hunt for ways I can become her.

And we all know her. Sure, she might look different for you, she might even be a different gender for you, but we all have this imaginary, perfect person we look up to.

For some people, it’s a background thing, a little bit of inspiration and motivation to keep going to the gym or show up to work or to buy those new shoes. For others, it’s louder. Almost like an internal bully constantly showing you the various ways you’re simply not good enough.

Despite all of my reading and realisations, all the milestones and mornings I’ve woken up still trapped in my pale, clammy, familiar body, I still catch myself thinking this woman is real, and that one day I’ll become her.

No matter how much I learn, grow and try to accept myself, I find that I’m still waiting for that special moment when she’ll take over.

I’ll read a book, see a quote, watch a movie; sometimes I’ll see a girl walking down the street or on Pinterest, and I get reminded of this woman and how I am so far away from her. Then I’ll fall right back into the cycle of not-enough-ness and trying and failing to be anyone but the person I actually am.

Now, there is nothing wrong with self-development and personal growth. As you know, I love all that shit, even the weird, esoteric stuff. But it’s important to see it for what it is – bollocks pretending.

We’re all pretending, you know. Even that girl that you compare yourself to and wish you could be, or that successful person you follow, or your favourite celebrity – it doesn’t matter who it is or what they do; everyone is pretending in the presence of other people.

A little bit of pretence can be useful, such as pretending you’re confident during a job interview or that you still believe in the big beardy man with his red suit when a small child asks you.

Pretending can be a way to keep you safe and productive during social situations. But it’s when this pretending goes on too long, or we forget that we’re all doing it, that it becomes an issue.

Because when you’re finally alone, sitting braless in your room with no one to bother you, you’ll feel like a failure. When you think that you’re the only one who’s pretending, you’ll see yourself as separate from everyone else in the world and as the only one who can’t get it right

As a girl growing up, I’d frequently wonder whether there was some special class that every other girl had taken in private, to teach them how to be and how to look, that I hadn’t been invited to because I was fundamentally wrong.

I still feel that way today, a lot of the time, to be honest with you. But sometimes the curtain gets pulled back, and you’re reminded that everyone is actually pretending and no one has a clue what they’re doing.

Anything from a deep conversation with a friend to a social media comment can be this ‘pulling back of the curtain’ and remind you of this.

This is why I love seeing stories of scams, fake gurus and online coaches, and why I was so obsessed with pyramid scheme girlies during lockdown. They’re funny and sometimes dramatic peeks behind this curtain that remind me that even those at the top, who have the seemingly perfect lives, incomes and shiny hair, are faking it.

(Of course, their faking it is different to ours because we’re not trying to manipulate money out of people, we’re just trying to get through the days. But that’s why I said dramatic reveals are my favourite.)

I’m currently sitting calmly in this realisation that we’re all pretending. That the whole world truly is a stage, but some of us get so comfortable in our roles that we forget what is real. We forget that underneath the panstick, bright lights and scripts, we’re all messy, sweaty, insecure human beings just looking for connection.

My aim in life and in my writing is to keep this curtain open; to be a constant reminder that we’re all in the same boat, just figuring stuff out. And there is nothing wrong with that, or with you.

Speak soon,

Rachael.

Photo by davide ragusa on Unsplash