This is one of the first letters of the Take What You Need project.
It came from a time in my life when I thought I had carefully set down most of my performative tendencies. I believed I was finally moving through the world in my most authentic skin. Or at least… I thought I was.
But the wild thing about pretending for so long, about holding a smile long after it should have dropped, is that you don’t always recognize where the performance ends & you begin.
The most superficial layers were obvious. The easy ones. The things you can quickly point to & say, “yeah… that’s not really me.”
But there are deeper things woven in there too. Behaviors that have become so ingrained you don’t even clock them at first. And then one day you catch yourself doing something & think, well shit… I didn’t even realize that was part of the act.
Being “on” all the time has that effect on you.
It fogs things up a little. Makes the line between the performance & the person a little blurrier than you’d like to admit.
And then slowly, very slowly—painfully so, you start finding your way back to yourself.
When you get even a glimpse of that real version of you, the one that isn’t trying to keep the room entertained, the one that isn’t hustling for approval or productivity points, something clicks.
You realize you don’t have to be on all the time.
You don’t have to be the funniest one in the room.
You don’t have to prove your worth through constant motion.
You can simply be you.
And believe it or not… that’s enough.
We’re whole a$$ human beings with depth & complexity and contradictions. Why spend all that time performing something we’re not?
This letter is for anyone who is over the theatrics. Whether that performance shows up in small ways, like saying yes when you really want to say no, or in heavier ones, like telling people you’re fine when you’re quietly falling apart.
Now, before we get into this week’s letter, I do have one small piece of housekeeping.
After this week, TWYN will become a once-per-week ritual. Over the past year, I’ve had a surprising amount of time on my hands, which has allowed me to write these letters frequently. Something tells me that season of spaciousness is about to change & change fast.
Moving forward, TWYN letters will be available in full to paid subscribers, while free subscribers will receive the weekly intro.
Whether you’re contributing a few dollars a month or simply showing up as a reader, please know how deeply I appreciate the support. I launched the digital TWYN archive in December of 2025 & the in-person installation in April 2025. We’re coming up on a year of this project existing in the world.
Which feels kind of wild to say out loud.
So… onto the letter.
