The Onion

For a long time, I treated self-discovery like an excavation project.

I thought if I could just peel away enough masks—the protective ones, the professional ones, the social ones, the ones I wear even when I’m alone in a quiet room—I would eventually reach the essence. The solid, unshakeable core. My “true self.”

Then came a simple, quiet realisation: the layers are the onion.

Have you ever peeled an onion?

If you peel away every single layer expecting to find a hidden seed at the centre, you’re left with nothing on the cutting board.

Because the layers are the onion.

We tend to think of masks as disguises or dishonesty. But what if they aren’t disguises at all? What if each mask is just an interface; a genuine response to a specific moment, a specific room, or a specific relationship? Some show up to protect us. Some to express playfulness. Some are chosen deliberately; others surface without us noticing.

None of them are fake. They are all facets of the same living ecosystem.

Maybe authenticity isn’t about chiselling away at ourselves until only one “real” face remains. Maybe it’s just the quiet, daily practice of noticing which layer has shown up today, holding it with curiosity, and letting the whole picture exist without needing to clear it up.

No hidden core required. Just the layers, the space they occupy, and you holding them all together.