Unveiling the Veil we've Veiled Ourselves

 

Walking away from what should never have held us is a miracle—one that births who we are truly meant to be.

Many have walked away scarred, leaving behind stories they are neither eager to share nor willing to spotlight.

These gloomy seasons are often imposed on us by the weight of culture, society, family, beliefs, and expectations.

We stepped into them because we didn’t know better—or perhaps we thought our story would be different. Sometimes, we saw the end from the beginning, but we still went in anyway. While these decisions may turn out well for some, it wasn’t so for you. You didn’t understand why; you only stayed positive, doing your very best to salvage each situation as it unfolded—until you found yourself drowning, sinking, and screaming for help. Yet your cries fell into silence. Family, culture, and society either ignored you or dismissed it as normal: "We went through it, our parents did, and so did theirs before them.”

So it became wired into your subconscious that being *less*—presenting less of who you truly are—was what made others feel important. It built their egos, fueled their pride, and preserved their place in family and society. How sad!

And so, you became numb to yourself—your originality, your free-spiritedness, your essence, your values, your dreams. You died to the ultimate being you were created to be.

Then one day, you rose. You dusted yourself off. You took a few strides forward. You felt a little joy. Your face glowed, your skin brightened. But soon, the whispers returned:

“Don’t you think you’re doing too much? Think of the family name."

So once again, you dimmed your light, rolled down your sleeves, and hid yourself—veiled for the hundredth time.

Yet your inner self refused to be silent. It grew restless, disturbed, aching to be heard—for burying what was meant to emerge and bring joy to thousands, even millions.

You told yourself, “I will pass this on to my children.” You prepared them, poured into them your energy and essence. But it failed, because they were not you. What was placed in you was uniquely yours. Theirs was only to admire and cheer.

At last, you had enough. You resolved that you would not end six feet under like those before you. You made the hard decision to unveil yourself. It was painful—you endured torment and ridicule. Family mocked you, friends walked away, and those who never wished you well rejoiced.

Still, you pressed on—unveiling, unlearning, relearning. Quietly, you rebuilt your confidence. Your secret tears tempted you to give up, but your truest self fought harder to emerge, inspired by those who had walked this road before you. You kept moving, pushing, rebranding, trusting, and working—until the chains finally broke. Until every shackle fell away. Until you were washed free from the despair that once held you.

To those created to live “normal” lives, authenticity may come naturally. We admire them without judgment, for they are fulfilled in their own callings.

But to you—with the extra weight of a destiny-calling—remaining hidden was never an option. You could not stay submerged in the shadows of who you truly are.

Now, you rejoice. And others rejoice with you—happy to see you where you were always meant to be. All that you thought you had lost was never truly lost; it has returned, proving there could have been no other way.

Now, you shine like the palm tree, like the cedars of Lebanon. Your courage has paved the way for future generations—to listen to the beckoning of their inner selves and rise into the fullness of who they are created to be.