Many of the thoughts, feelings, and behaviours we struggle with in adulthood aren’t random flaws, weaknesses, or signs that something is wrong with us. They’re adaptations that developed for a reason.

For many LGBTQ+ people, growing up can involve navigating environments that feel rejecting, unsafe, unpredictable, or shaming. Some experience overt bullying, discrimination, family rejection, or hostility. Others receive more subtle messages that who they’re is somehow disappointing, embarrassing, or unacceptable. Whatever form these experiences take, they often leave us asking the same question: How do I stay safe? The answers we develop become our adaptations.

We learn to people please, become perfectionists, hide parts of ourselves, monitor other people’s moods, avoid conflict, and shape shift to fit into environments that don’t always feel welcoming. Many of us become experts at reading a room, anticipating reactions, and adjusting our behaviour accordingly. These adaptations are often incredibly effective. They help us survive difficult circumstances and protect us from further harm. The challenge is that the strategies that once kept us safe can continue long after the original danger has passed. What was once protective can eventually become restrictive.

Authenticity and healing are deeply connected because healing rarely involves becoming somebody new. More often, it involves gradually letting go of the adaptations that no longer serve us and reconnecting with the person we were before we learned that parts of ourselves needed to be hidden.

HEALING STARTS WITH AWARENESS

Authenticity and healing often begin with awareness. Before we can change our patterns, we first need to recognise that they exist. For some people this realisation arrives gradually, whilst for others it feels more like a sudden awakening. Either way, there often comes a point where we begin to notice that certain challenges keep appearing throughout our lives.

Perhaps we find ourselves constantly seeking approval, struggling to say no, prioritising everybody else’s needs whilst neglecting our own, or becoming deeply affected by criticism. We may notice recurring patterns in relationships, friendships, or at work. Perhaps we realise how exhausting it has become to constantly monitor ourselves and try to be who we think other people want us to be. Before awareness develops, these behaviours simply feel like who we are. Once awareness emerges, we begin recognising them as patterns.

For many years I believed that the various challenges I experienced existed in isolation. There were struggles with self esteem, difficult relationships, people pleasing tendencies, perfectionism, anxiety, depression, and periods of addiction. It was only later that I began to recognise that many of these experiences were connected. They were not separate problems requiring separate solutions. They were different expressions of the same underlying adaptations.

Developing self awareness allowed me to stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking, “Why does this make sense?” Instead of viewing myself as broken, I began viewing myself as somebody who had adapted. Rather than responding to my experiences with judgement, I became more curious about them, and instead of fighting against them, I started trying to understand where they had come from and what purpose they had once served.

The moment we understand an adaptation, it stops looking like a flaw and starts making sense.

This shift does not solve everything overnight. Awareness alone does not create change. What it does create is choice. Once we recognise our patterns, we have the opportunity to respond differently to them, and that is often where healing begins.

SELF ACCEPTANCE COMES BEFORE CHANGE

One of the biggest misconceptions about healing is the belief that we must become different before we can accept ourselves. Many people spend years believing that self acceptance is something they will earn once they’re confident enough, successful enough, attractive enough, productive enough, or emotionally healthy enough. Unfortunately, self acceptance rarely works that way.

For much of my life I believed that happiness existed somewhere in the future. If I could just improve myself enough, achieve enough, fix enough, or prove enough, then perhaps I would finally feel comfortable being me. The problem with this approach is that there is always another target to reach, another achievement to unlock, another version of ourselves that we believe will finally be enough.

Many LGBTQ+ people grow up receiving the message that authenticity is risky. We learn that certain parts of ourselves need to be hidden, softened, explained, or defended. Over time, it can become difficult to distinguish between who we are and who we think we need to be. We spend so long adapting that the adaptation starts to feel like our identity.

Looking back, I can see this clearly in my own life. As a child I quickly learned that some parts of me felt safer than others. Like many LGBTQ+ people, I became highly attuned to what was acceptable and what might attract unwanted attention, criticism, or rejection. Over time, I developed the belief that acceptance was something I had to earn rather than something I deserved. For years I thought healing meant becoming a different version of myself. It took me a long time to realise that healing was actually about ending the war I had been fighting with myself.

Healing often begins when we stop trying to earn our worth. That does not mean giving up on growth, learning, or self improvement. It means recognising that our worth isn’t dependent upon them. We don’t become valuable because we change. We change more easily when we finally recognise that we were valuable all along.

Healing didn’t begin when I changed who I was. Healing began when I stopped trying to.

Self acceptance isn’t the end point of authenticity and healing. It is the foundation upon which everything else is built.

MEETING THE INNER CHILD

Many therapeutic approaches talk about the inner child, and sometimes the concept can sound simplistic or overly sentimental. In reality, it offers a powerful way of understanding how our earlier experiences continue to shape us in adulthood. When I think about authenticity and healing, I often find myself thinking about younger versions of ourselves. The child who felt different. The teenager who felt alone. The young person trying desperately to fit in, avoid rejection, or survive circumstances that felt overwhelming.

The adaptations we carry today were often created by those younger versions of ourselves. The people pleaser was trying to maintain connection. The perfectionist was attempting to avoid criticism. The shape shifter was searching for belonging, whilst the hyper independent person was protecting themselves from disappointment. Even the inner critic, despite the distress it often causes, was usually trying to keep us safe by preventing mistakes and reducing the possibility of rejection.

Viewed through this lens, many of the things we dislike about ourselves begin to look very different. Rather than seeing weaknesses, we begin to see survival strategies. Rather than seeing dysfunction, we begin to see attempts to cope.

When I reflect on my own life, I don’t think about an abstract psychological concept. I think about the younger version of me who spent long periods feeling isolated, different, and unsure where he belonged. For many years I viewed those parts of myself with embarrassment, frustration, or pity. Healing began when I started viewing them differently. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with him?” I started asking, “What happened to him?” That shift allowed me to recognise that many of the behaviours I criticised in adulthood had originally developed as attempts to cope. Many people discover that they can offer understanding, patience, and kindness to their younger selves far more easily than they can offer those things to themselves in the present. Yet they’re the same person. The child who developed those adaptations was doing the best they could with the resources available to them at the time. Recognising this does not erase the pain of what happened. It does, however, allow us to stop blaming ourselves for how we survived.

LEARNING SELF COMPASSION

For many of us, self criticism feels normal. In fact, it often feels productive. We tell ourselves that if we push harder, work harder, achieve more, or become better, we will eventually arrive at a place where we feel worthy. The problem is that shame rarely responds to criticism. Most people have spent years trying to bully themselves into self acceptance, only to discover that it doesn’t work.

Many LGBTQ+ people grow up believing that there is something fundamentally wrong with them. Even when those beliefs aren’t consciously held, they often continue to influence how we relate to ourselves. We become our own harshest critics, holding ourselves to standards that we would never impose upon anybody else. We say things to ourselves that we would never dream of saying to a friend, partner, or client.

One of the biggest shifts in my own healing came when I realised how much shame had been driving my life. I thought self criticism was motivating me. I thought being hard on myself would somehow make me stronger, more successful, more acceptable, or more lovable. In reality, it was simply exhausting. The voice in my head often sounded as though it was trying to help me, but it rarely left me feeling better.

Authenticity and healing require a different approach. Self compassion isn’t about making excuses, avoiding responsibility, or pretending everything is fine. It is about responding to our struggles with the same understanding that we would offer another human being. It means recognising that being imperfect does not make us unworthy of care. It means understanding that pain does not need to be earned before it deserves compassion.

Self compassion isn’t letting ourselves off the hook. It’s finally putting down the whip.

For many people, self compassion feels uncomfortable at first. Criticism may feel familiar, whilst kindness feels unfamiliar. Yet over time, self compassion creates the emotional safety that growth requires. People rarely heal because they hate themselves enough. More often, they heal because they finally begin treating themselves with care.

AUTHENTICITY REQUIRES BOUNDARIES

Authenticity is often spoken about as though it is simply a mindset. In reality, it is also a behaviour. We can’t claim to value ourselves whilst consistently abandoning our needs, ignoring our limits, or allowing others to repeatedly cross our boundaries.

Many of the adaptations that helped us survive involve prioritising other people’s comfort over our own. We learn to avoid conflict, suppress our opinions, minimise our needs, and accommodate others at our own expense. Whilst these strategies may reduce the risk of rejection in the short term, they often come at the cost of authenticity.

Healing requires us to gradually behave as though our needs matter. This may involve saying no when we would previously have said yes. It may involve expressing a preference rather than automatically agreeing with others. It may involve ending relationships that no longer feel healthy or refusing to tolerate treatment that we once accepted.

I firmly believe that boundaries are one of the foundations upon which genuine self esteem is built. Many people think of self esteem as a feeling, but in my experience it is also a practice. Every time we set a healthy boundary, honour our needs, express a preference, or refuse to accept treatment that diminishes us, we send ourselves a powerful message: my needs matter too. Conversely, when we repeatedly abandon ourselves to keep other people comfortable, we reinforce the belief that other people’s needs are more important than our own. Healthy boundaries are therefore not simply about managing relationships. They’re one of the primary ways we build self respect, self trust, and ultimately self esteem.

This can feel deeply uncomfortable, particularly for those who have spent much of their lives seeking approval. Boundaries often trigger fears of rejection, conflict, or abandonment. Yet healthy boundaries aren’t walls designed to keep people out. They’re guidelines that allow us to remain connected to ourselves whilst remaining connected to others.

I also think it’s important to approach boundaries gradually. Many of us have spent years, sometimes decades, prioritising other people’s needs over our own. It can be unrealistic to expect ourselves to suddenly become confident boundary setters overnight. Instead, it can be helpful to ask where in our lives it feels safest to begin. Is there a trusted friend, partner, or family member with whom we could experiment? Is there somebody we feel vulnerable enough to say, “I’m trying to get better at putting boundaries in place. Would you mind if I practised with you?” Healthy people are often far more supportive of this process than we imagine.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour.

Authenticity and healing are often built in much the same way. We don’t wake up one morning with perfect boundaries, complete confidence, and unshakeable self esteem. Instead, we build them gradually through small acts of self respect repeated over time. Every boundary we set, every preference we express, and every moment we choose not to abandon ourselves is another brick laid in the foundation of a healthier relationship with ourselves.

HEALING HAPPENS IN COMMUNITY

Many of the wounds LGBTQ+ people experience occur in relationships, families, schools, workplaces, and communities. It therefore makes sense that much of our healing also happens in relationships and community.

For me, some of the most meaningful moments of healing have happened through connection with other people. Whether through recovery communities, LGBTQ+ friendships, Manchester Proud Chorus, Pride events, or simply spending time with people who understood my experiences, I gradually discovered something that had been missing for much of my life: belonging. Growing up, I often felt as though I existed on the outside looking in. Community showed me that I was not alone and that many of the struggles I believed were unique to me were shared by countless others.

Shame thrives in isolation. It grows strongest when we believe that we are alone, different, or fundamentally flawed. One of the reasons LGBTQ+ community can be so powerful is that it challenges these beliefs. We discover people who understand our experiences, share our struggles, and reflect parts of ourselves that we may have spent years trying to hide.

For me, some of the most meaningful moments of healing have not happened in isolation. They have happened through recovery communities, LGBTQ+ spaces, friendships, Pride events, and standing alongside other people who understand what it means to live outside societal expectations. These experiences create opportunities for something many of us lacked growing up: belonging.

Community does not remove pain or eliminate shame entirely. What it often does is provide a different experience. It allows us to be seen, accepted, and valued without having to perform or adapt. Over time, these experiences begin to challenge the old belief that we must hide in order to belong.

Shame grows in isolation. Healing grows in connection.

This is one of the reasons community is such an important part of authenticity and healing. We don’t simply discover who we are in isolation. We also discover ourselves through safe relationships with other people.

BECOMING VISIBLE

Ultimately, authenticity and healing are about becoming visible. Not visible in the sense of being loud, extroverted, or constantly drawing attention to ourselves. Visible in the sense of no longer needing to hide. Visible in the sense of allowing ourselves to be seen as we truly are rather than who we think we need to be.

For many LGBTQ+ people, this isn’t a single event. It is a lifelong process. We may become more visible in our relationships, more visible in our communities, more visible in our choices, and more visible in the way we treat ourselves. We begin letting go of masks that once felt essential and discover that authenticity is often less frightening than we imagined.

The adaptations that helped us survive deserve respect. They protected us when we needed protection. They helped us navigate environments that may genuinely have been unsafe. Healing isn’t about condemning those adaptations or pretending they were mistakes. It is about recognising when they have done their job and gently allowing them to step aside.

For me, becoming visible has often happened through seemingly small moments. Singing openly in an LGBTQ+ choir, marching with the sober gays at New York Pride, painting my nails despite worrying what others might think, speaking publicly about my experiences, or simply allowing myself to take up space without apologising for it. These moments may appear insignificant from the outside, yet each one represented a small act of authenticity. Each one challenged an old belief that parts of me needed to remain hidden in order to be accepted. Looking back, I can see that healing was built in much the same way Rome was built: not in a single day, but through countless small actions repeated consistently over time.

The goal isn’t to become somebody new. The goal is to stop hiding the person who was there all along.

Authenticity and healing aren’t destinations that we arrive at once and then never think about again. They’re ongoing practices. They involve repeatedly choosing curiosity over judgement, self compassion over criticism, boundaries over self abandonment, and connection over isolation. The more we make those choices, the more we move beyond survival and towards a life that feels genuinely our own.

HOW THERAPY CAN HELP

Many of the adaptations discussed in a number of my articles developed for good reasons. They helped us survive difficult experiences, navigate challenging environments, and protect ourselves from harm. The difficulty is that these same strategies can continue operating long after they’re needed, influencing our relationships, self esteem, emotional wellbeing, and sense of identity.

Therapy can provide a space to explore these patterns with curiosity rather than judgement. It can help you understand where your adaptations came from, recognise how they may be affecting your life today, and develop new ways of relating to yourself and others. It can also support you in building self awareness, self compassion, healthier boundaries, and a stronger sense of authenticity. Authenticity and healing aren’t about becoming a perfect version of yourself. They’re about developing the freedom to live as yourself.

Whatever challenges you’re facing, there’s usually a reason they developed in the first place. The thoughts, feelings, and behaviours we struggle with today are often adaptations to experiences that once required us to survive, protect ourselves, or belong. Understanding those patterns with curiosity and compassion can be the first step towards lasting change.