As an editor, I specialize in taking another person’s words and polishing to create the best and most impressive version. It makes me a chameleon of sorts — I adopt voices, dwell in them for a bit and then move onto a different one.
The best editors can do this. They aim to improve writing while retaining the very specific cadence that makes a writer’s voice uniquely their own.
But what about in life? As humans, we learn, grow and change. But this honing should not come at the expense of losing who we are. To say it another way: Much like a piece of writing shouldn’t become unfamiliar to the author, nor should the self become unfamiliar to the person.
The authentic you — the one that comes alive with your passions — is the best version and the version that the people in your life should love. But too often, people edit themself, censoring bits to appease others. Cramming oneself into a poorly fitting mold can rob people of joy, fulfillment and happiness. Shouldn’t we all have lives filled with those things?
And yet, so many people do this. I did.
It was me at 25, when I tried to fit the mold of doting mother and wife, walking away from my journalism career. It didn’t last long — days, really — before I realized I couldn’t deny the parts of me that needed to be working for a greater good.
It was me at 28, when I tamped down my self after my husband threatened divorce simply because I told him we needed to cut back on spending by canceling the expensive satellite TV contract. “If you don’t stop nagging me, I will divorce you,” are words seared in my brain. It was a turning point — the point where I both edited myself and began a path to find my way out.
It was me at 43 when my boss became increasingly erratic, threatening to manage me out. I edited every instinct I had to try to fit the mold and still failed in his eyes. But again, I couldn’t maintain that false version of me, and let it all out in a candid conversation with someone in power.
We all do it from time to time. But it’s not sustainable or healthy.
At 25, I realized that I am not me if I am not writing and actively engaged in meaningful work.
At 28, I realized that I could not live with such misaligned world views and priorities. I wanted a better life for my kids. My ex wanted … satellite TV.
At 43, I realized that once trust is lost, there’s no going back. In that case, even though I sought and was granted help, it couldn’t change the damage that was already done.
Edit your words. Let others help you write and speak in the best versions of yourself. But don’t edit yourself. Be who you are — in all its messy, smart, brilliant, kind, wonderful glory.
There’s no one quite like you. And if those who surround you cannot appreciate that, then they are not your people.
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