Wow! Love This Roy Dawson Earth Angel Master Magical Healers Facebook Post
“One Life, One Face”
A person can live two lives and never meet either one.
There is the one sent into town. Good posture. Clean hands. Says the right things. Laughs at the right jokes. Knows which words are safe in the daylight. People nod when this person talks. They say this one is respectable, reasonable, solid. That is the public self.
Then there is the other one.
The one who sits alone when the door is closed.
The one who speaks in a lower voice, or not at all.
The one who remembers things the public self pretends never happened.
That is the private self.
Most people live with a small gap between the two. Quieter at home than at work. Jokes with friends and goes silent at funerals. This is ordinary self‑presentation; everyone edits a little to fit the room. But when the public self and the private self are strangers, it becomes more than manners. It becomes shame.
The Mask
A public persona that contradicts the private self is not just a costume. It is a verdict. It says: “Who I really am is not acceptable. I must hide it.”
So a person invents someone the world will not reject. Brave where they feel afraid. Pure where they feel filthy. Certain where they feel lost. They send this invention out to collect respect on their behalf.
People shake this persona’s hand. They praise it. They invite it in.
But the one behind the mask knows it is not them being accepted. It is the act. Every compliment lands on painted plaster and never sinks through. It feels like eating with a painted mouth. No matter how much is “fed,” the hunger stays.
At a dinner table, this person talks about honesty. They tell a story about owning their mistakes. Everyone laughs. Heads nod. Later that night, alone in a small room with the door shut, they scroll through messages and delete the ones that would ruin them if anyone saw. The speech was for the room. The erasing is for the truth.
Shame stays with the one holding the phone, not the one telling the story.
Why Not Become the Respected One?
If a person can act like the one everyone respects, why not simply be that one all the time? Why not act like the version they are not ashamed of?
Because pretending is cheaper than changing.
To act respectable in public, you only have to hold your breath. Hold your tongue. Hold your temper. Smile, straighten your back, and last for an hour. It is performance. It is theater. It ends when you go home.
To actually become the person you pretend to be would mean:
letting go of habits that feel good right now
facing the damage you have done
admitting you are not special enough to escape consequences
It means letting the private self feel its own shame and using it as a signal to change, not a reason to hide. That work is slow and humbling. Pretending pays fast.
So people put on the “good” self where it counts: at work, at gatherings, online, around family. They speak about integrity in the same week they break every promise in private. They talk about loyalty with a phone full of secret exits. The show goes on.
And yet, they are tired. Living in two skins will drain a person more than honest labor.
Shame and the Buried Self
Shame is not always the enemy. There is a kind that tells you when you have stepped outside your own code. It stings when you are cruel, petty, dishonest, so you can step back toward the person you want to be.
But there is another kind of shame that whispers: “You, yourself, are wrong. Not your action—you.” That kind does not correct. It erases. It says the real self must never see daylight.
To survive that feeling, a person buries the authentic self and builds a public version as a shield. The Ego would rather be impressive than human, because human feels too risky. Being impressive might keep you safe. Being real might get you rejected.
So when you ask, “Why not act like the one people respect?” the quiet answer is:
They do not believe the real them could ever be respected.
They do not think that version is allowed in the open.
So they live as an impersonator of themselves. They are not just lying to others. They are rejecting their own face.
The Cost of Two Lives
To keep this going, they must constantly manage impressions. Change tone with each room. Adjust opinions, stories, even morals depending on who is looking.
In public: generous. In private: resentful.
In public: faithful. In private: always shopping for a better offer.
In public: humble. In private: seething with comparison and envy.
It works for a while. It can even look like success. People clap for the costume. Institutions reward it. Communities elevate it. But the more the mask is rewarded, the more the real face rots from lack of air.
At three in the morning, the same person who was applauded for their “authenticity” stares at the ceiling. The room is dark. The phone is dark. The applause is gone. They rehearse every lie they told that day and wonder which one will be the first thread to snap. Sleep does not come. Not because the world is cruel, but because their life is divided.
Eventually, three things happen:
They feel hollow. The praise no longer touches them. The more they are admired, the more fraudulent they feel.
They feel watched. Every room becomes a stage. Every friend becomes a potential witness. There is no rest.
Something cracks. The private life leaks out: get more info an affair, an addiction, a meltdown, a truth. The mask slips. People see both faces at once.
People call it a fall from grace. In truth, there was no fall. The only thing that fell was the mask.
One Life, One Face
There is another way, but it is not glamorous.
It is to choose one self and live there.
Not perfect—just the same.
The same in public and in private.
The same when praised and when ignored.
That road starts with hard, quiet questions:
“If I am ashamed of how I live in private, why do I insist that this ashamed version is the ‘real me’ instead of the ‘old me’ I am willing to outgrow?”
“If people only respect the version of me that is honest and steady, why not build a life where that version is the only one that exists?”
It means letting shame do its proper work: not to bury you, but to point at what must change. Not: “You are unlovable,” but: “This thing you are doing does not belong in the life you want.”
Then you change one thing at a time:
Stop praising values you do not practice.
Stop promising what you will not keep.
Stop testing lines you intend to cross as soon as the door shuts.
You begin to make private choices match public words, even when nobody is watching. Especially then.
At first, it feels small and get more info dull. No applause. No rush. Just you and the quiet, learning to live in one skin without flinching.
But a person who is the same in public and in private sleeps differently. They may not impress everyone, but they are not afraid of their own reflection. They do not have to remember which version they used on which person. Their mind is free for better work.
They can be corrected without collapsing, because criticism lands on a real, growing self, not a fragile mask. They can be loved without suspicion, because they know it is not a character being loved, but click here a person.
Integrity means you are the same in public as you are in private. Not because the world needs your perfection, but because you need your wholeness.
One honest life, even if it is small, is worth more than two performances that never touch.
Thank you for reading. Hope these words meet you exactly where you are and help you move a little closer to your truest self.
With love and light,
Roy Dawson
Earth Angel · Master Magical Healer