Unmasked Glory

A Poem for the Threes

For the ones who rise to win - but are learning how to just be.

I was born with the sun in my spine,

and the finish line in my lungs.

Breathed in applause before I knew my name.

They called me “gifted,”

so I wrapped my worth in outcomes.

Taught to run fast,

look good,

and never show cracks.

I became performance,

before I became person.

The Achiever.

The Chameleon.

The Best.

The one who turns mirrors into stages

and identity into strategy.

I don’t fake.

I adapt.

I shape-shift.

I show up.

I excel.

And sometimes,

I forget who I was before I got good at being who they

needed.

My wound?

Love has to be earned

Just being is never enough

if doing doesn’t shine.

So I make myself useful.

Become indispensable.

Start collecting trophies

in place of tenderness.

My blind spot?

The mask becomes muscle memory

If you wear masks long enough they become your face

I am what I achieve

Failure is identity

and rest is irrelevant

If I stop,

who am I?

I-must-keep-doing

I over identify to defend myself

Become the role

The role model

The job

The image

Others expectations

So no one sees the void

where my true self is choking

for permission to exhale

and appear beyond the facade

My idealised self-image?

I am best

I am successful

But success without soul

is just speed without direction.

Climbing ladders that lean on hollow walls

My worldview?

The world rewards winners

Success is success

So I better be my best at everything

even at hiding

My fixation?

Vanity

But not in the mirror sense

I curate how you see me

like my life is your highlight reel

Like you’re the one behind the camera of my life

I want to be admired,

because I fear you won’t love me

if you see the mess.

My focus of attention?

Tasks.

Goals.

Image.

I’m always scanning for the next move,

the next mountain to master,

because stillness feels like shame

and slowing down

feels like fading into the background.

Holy Truth says to me;

“You are not what you do…. come out from the shadows

…..you can hold a new hope”

Hope that I am more than metrics

Hope that authenticity won’t cost me love

Hope that being truly known

is better than being impressive

My stretch lines call me inward to Six,

where courage grows in community,

where I learn to lean,

to trust,

to stop performing for safety

Where I’m truly seen and embraced

To Nine,

I slow down

long enough to hear my own heartbeat,

not just the claps of the crowd

My triggers?

Criticism

Failure

Being overlooked

I’ve bent myself backwards to belong,

And feel enough.

Feeling invisible in a room taunts me,

But what if invisibility

isn’t always rejection?

What if it’s invitation

to rediscover who I am

when no one’s watching?

My centre is the heart—

but I’ve outsourced it.

Learned to lead with charisma,

while hiding the ache

that whispers:

Who are you… really?

So I stop.

I listen.

I learn the revolution of slowing down

and meeting myself unpolished.

So I fall forward,

but now,

I don’t lose myself in the fall.

So I shed the mask.

Say “no” without shame.

Cry without covering.

And stop hustling for wholeness.

May you learn to see yourself

not with the weary eyes of striving,

but with the quiet vision of belonging.

May your soul return home

to the self that never needed to prove (John O’Donahue)

I am a Three.

I will always rise.

But now,

I rise without rushing.

I shine without shapeshifting.

I succeed without selling my soul.

Because I am not my image—

I am my essence.

And that…

is enough.