I can’t pinpoint when, but somewhere in time a collective decision was made that “authentic” has a look.  A little rough around the edges. A little weary. A little “I’m just trying to make it, y’all.” And preferably paired with a sad selfie and a caption that ends with “but I’m still grateful.”

Meanwhile, if someone appears calm, polished, composed, or…God forbid…happy, we start squinting.

What are they hiding?
Who do they think they are?
This is giving…fake.

This is not only incredibly annoying but arguably a legitimate cultural problem.  We’ve turned authenticity into a performance and only feel compelled to clap when the performance includes pain.

We’ve Confused Transparency with Trauma

The internet loves a testimony, doesn’t it?  People will ignore your expertise for ten years, but let you cry in your car once and suddenly you’re “so real.” 🙄  There’s nothing wrong with sharing struggle. Struggle is human. But the expectation that struggle is the only proof of humanity is frankly, weird.  Though there are plenty of crises around us, that’s not everyone’s personal testimony at the moment.  Especially among the midlifers, some of us are in a stability era.  Some of us are in a “therapy worked” era.  Some of us are in a “my bills are paid and my nervous system isn’t on fire” era.  And that can be real too.

We Trust Messy Faster Than We Trust Mastered

When someone seems polished and put together, it can trigger all kinds of unspoken things:

• • • • • • Comparison: “Why don’t I have it together like that?”
          • Insecurity: “If they’re that solid, will they judge me?”
          • Resentment: “They didn’t earn that. Nobody gets to be that unbothered.”
          • Fear: “If I let myself admire them, it means I have to admit I want that for me.”

So we do what humans do when something makes us uncomfortable?  We discredit it.  Assume it’s performative. We call it fake.  But sometimes it’s just practiced.  There’s a difference between someone pretending to be okay and someone who’s learned how to be okay.

That “polish” might not be a mask.  It might be the result of boundaries, discipline, healing, growth, and boring ole consistency.  Yes, boring.  Because healing is often boring, it’s not cinematic. It doesn’t make for great content. It’s repetitive. It’s quiet. It’s choosing the same healthy thing over and over again until it finally becomes you.

We’ve Made “Relatable” a Requirement

The problem with making relatability the entry fee is that we start punishing people for evolving.  You can’t win.

If you share too little, you’re “guarded.”
If you share too much, you’re “doing it for attention.”
If you’re happy, you’re “out of touch.”
If you’re struggling, you’re “so brave.”

So people learn to perform whatever gets rewarded.  And right now, struggle seems to be reaping the most rewards.  Not because people are cruel, but because struggle feels familiar. It feels safe. It tells us, “See? I’m not alone.”

But familiar doesn’t always mean true.  Sometimes “relatable” is just “common.”  And “common” isn’t the same thing as “healthy.”

We Require Pain As Proof

When we only trust authenticity when it comes with struggle, we basically teach people that pain is the price of credibility.  We teach people to lead with wounds, apologize for confidence, downplay wins so they don’t seem arrogant, and keep themselves a little broken in public so they can remain likable. That’s not only ridiculous, it’s exhausting.

It keeps people stuck performing a version of themselves they already outgrew.  It also punishes the people who don’t want to tell their whole story.  Not everyone wants to share their mess publicly for clicks and likes, and not everyone should.

Some people are private.  Some people are healing quietly.  Some people just don’t want their trauma to become community property. And that has to be OK.

We Deny That Polished Might Mean “At Peace”

Let me say this plainly with my whole chest.  Someone can absolutely be polished and authentic.  Authenticity is simply alignment.  It’s when your life matches your values.  When your words match your actions, and when you’re not pretending to be someone else for acceptance.  Authenticity can also look like peace, structure, boundaries, “no” with a dissertation, confidence without a warning label, and not needing to explain yourself.

How to Shift the Lens

1) Stop using struggle as a lie detector.
Someone’s pain does not automatically make them honest. And someone’s peace does not automatically make them deceptive.

2) Check what gets triggered in you.
If someone’s polish makes you roll your eyes, pause.
Ask yourself: What story am I telling about them, and what does that story protect me from feeling?

3) Let people evolve without demanding a backstory.
We don’t need a full documentary to believe someone’s doing well.

4) Normalize “quiet authenticity.”
The kind that isn’t begging for applause or require a confession to feel valid.

Final Thoughts from the Veranda

If we only call people authentic when they’re bleeding in public, we’re not celebrating authenticity.  We’re celebrating access, and that’s not the same thing.  The next time you see someone who seems “too put together,” consider this:  Maybe they’re not hiding anything.  Maybe they fought for their peace, and now they’re protecting it.  And that can be real too.

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💌 P.S. Join the Middle-Aged Mafia for Midlife Veranda views and grown folks’ perspective. With receipts.