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Writing.

The publishing home of The HYPE WOMEN Studio

A growing collection of essays exploring the questions that help us remember who we are.

Writing.

For the last 30 years, I've thought that my identity and my self were the same thing.


They're not.


Your identity isn't who you are.

It's who you became.


It was built in reaction to the world.


Your true self shows up when when no one's there to judge her.



Now, let's be clear

Merriam-Webster does not agree with me.


It defines them as one in the same.


But lexicographer Noah Webster and the publisher brothers George and Charles Merriam wrote the first American dictionary in 1828.


1828 and 2026 aren't just different years, decades, centuries.

They're different stratospheres.


These words deserve to be interrogated.



When you think about your identity, what words come to mind?


Here's how I've defined mine:


The Good Girl.

The Overachiever.

The People Pleaser.

The Fixer.

The Perfectionist.


The girl who anticipated everyone else's needs before they had to ask.

The woman who believed proving herself was the price of belonging.


I thought those words described me.

Now I believe they tell the story of what happened to me.



The heaviest things we carry are rarely our circumstances.


They're the identities we built to survive them.



The Good Girl became obedient because being likeable felt like love.

The Overachiever became productive because achievement felt like worthiness.

The People Pleaser became agreeable because conflict felt like abandonment.

The Fixer became dependable because being needed felt like validation.

The Perfectionist became critical because proficiency felt like power.



None of them are you.

They're brilliant adaptations.



Your nervous system did exactly what it was designed to do.


It learned.

It protected.

It adapted.



Think about how those identities show up to try to protect you every day.


Someone questions your parenting.

The Perfectionist becomes critical.


A friend always wants you to accommodate her schedule.

The People Pleaser becomes agreeable.


Your boss asks you to take on more work than is manageable.

The Overachiever becomes productive.



The world is constantly asking us to react.


And the speed with which we're inundated with others' opinions of our choices is untenable.


Our nervous systems default to the identities that once kept us safe.


Those identities got us here.

But they will not get us to where we want to go.



The true self shows up when we stop reacting.



Since I was 10 years old, I have been losing myself in response to the world.


Deferring my power.

Dismissing my intuition.

Dimming my light.


I allowed everything outside of me to override what I knew was true inside.



I thought freedom meant changing my circumstances.


Changing the job.

Changing the relationship.

Changing the environment.


But now I believe freedom lies in changing my pace.


The speed, the medium, the context.


Because when life feels loud, urgent and demanding, our nervous systems don't calmly connect to our truest, grounded, sovereign selves.


They revert immediately to our adapted identities.



But your identity isn't who you are.


It's a reactive behavior that your nervous system turned into a belief.



The identities react.

The self witnesses.


The identities rush.

The self chooses the pace.


The identities defend.

The self discerns.


The identities earn.

The self belongs.



Watch how it plays out:


Your identity is Tireless Worker.

Because you learned to believe that your value depends on achievement.

Your true self knows: You are worthy.


Your identity is Selfless Mother.

Because you learned to believe that love is earned through self-sacrifice.

Your true self knows: You are wanted.


Your identity is Fearless Leader.

Because you learned to believe that having every answer will protect you.

Your true self knows: You are safe.


Your identity is Constant Caretaker.

Because you learned to believe that rest is laziness.

Your true self knows: You are enough.


Your identity is Lone Wolf.

Because you learned to believe that depending on others is risky.

Your true self knows: You are deserving.



Separating identity from self is true freedom.



And maybe that's what growth really is.


Not in the becoming of someone new.


But in...


... learning to separate who you are from who you had to become.

... remembering who exists beneath everything you've been carrying.

... knowing that you don't have to answer every invitation to perform the identities again.



Because your identity isn't who you are.

It's who you became in reaction to the world.


And once you can understand the difference...

Your true self will be the one who shows up each day.



I'm going deeper on this concept inside the HYPE WOMEN Community this week.




And if my writing has made you feel seen, I want to make sure I can keep doing it.




xoxo,


Erin


Updated: Jul 31


Hi friends. 🖤


Here's what unfolded inside HYPE WOMEN this week.



We read.


Expressing Concern is Selfish.

An essay that invites us to consider another way.




We watched.


The story behind this week's essay.

Because inherent truths begin with lived experience.


Watch

 


We saved.


This week's framework.

Practicing together is how we learn and grow.


Save



We invited.


Transformation is personal.

But it can't be done alone.




Until Monday...


One new idea.

We'll begin again.



If this resonates, I want you with us. 


Join the HYPE WOMEN email community at hypewomen.com/subscribe.



xoxo,


Erin

Updated: Aug 7


Last week, my mom told me she was worried about me.


Actually, she said, "We're worried about you."


There are few phrases that land more heavily in my body than those four words.



Expressing concern is a complicated exchange that I'm going to unpack.


Adding "we" to the statement tells you a committee of two or more has convened.



When someone says, "We're worried about you," what they're often asking—without realizing it—is for you to carry their worry, too.


And sometimes, that is selfish.



What we call "concern" usually falls into one of three categories.


The first protects.

The second transfers.

The third judges.


Only one of those is actually about the other person.



There are moments when expressing concern is absolutely the right thing to do.


If someone you love is abusing alcohol.

If they're in an unhealthy relationship that they can't yet see.

If they're engaging in behavior that is putting their wellbeing at risk.


Say something.

Those conversations are uncomfortable, but they can save lives.



Sometimes love interrupts destructive patterns.


But not all concern is created equal.



The second is the one I've been thinking about the most.


This is when someone expresses concern about something you're already working to address.


Your health.

Your marriage.

Your child's diagnosis.

Your job loss.

Your grief.

Your infertility.

Your depression.

Your hormones.


Whatever it is, you're already living it.

You're already carrying it.

You're already trying to figure out what to do next.



Then someone says,

"I'm really worried about you."


What have they actually added?


Not information.

Not a solution.

Not support.


They've simply placed their anxiety on top of yours.



They feel a little lighter because they've offloaded it.


You feel a little heavier because now you're carrying theirs, too.



That's what happened in my exchange with my mother.


When I heard, "We're worried about you," my body didn't hear love.


It heard another thing I was now responsible for on top of what I was managing.

Another emotional load to carry.

Another group of people I needed to reassure that I was okay.



That wasn't my mom's intention.

I know that.


But intention and impact are not the same thing.



Look at the difference between these two statements:


"We're concerned about you."


verus


"You have so much you're carrying right now. How are you doing? How can I help?'"



One asks me to regulate your anxiety.

The other offers to help regulate mine.


One observes.

The other participates.


One creates distance.

The other moves closer.


That's care.



Then there's the third kind of concern.


The one that's actually judgment wearing compassion as a disguise.


I've experienced this one more times than I can count.



When I left corporate America to start my first company, friends and family sat me down because they were "concerned."


They weren't concerned because I was in danger.

They were concerned because they wouldn't have made the same decision.


They didn't understand it.

It made them uncomfortable.

So they called it concern.



I've seen this happen in a multitude of ways.


Someone expresses concern when others...


Leave marriages.

Move across the country.

Change careers.

Decide not to have children.

Homeschool.

Take medication.

Start businesses.

Close businesses.


Choose differently than the people around them.



Sometimes what we label as concern is simply our inability to understand someone else's path.



And that's ours to work through.

Not theirs.



Before we tell someone we're worried about them, I invite us to ask ourselves a few questions.


Am I offering new information they genuinely cannot see?

Or am I reminding them of something they already carry every single day?


Am I offering support?

Or am I asking them to manage my anxiety?


Am I expressing care?

Or am I expressing discomfort with a decision I wouldn't make myself?



And perhaps the most important question of all:


What am I actually hoping this conversation accomplishes?


Because if the answer is simply, "I needed to say it," then maybe the conversation isn't really for them.


Maybe it's for us.



Words matter.


Not just because of what they mean.

But because of what they ask another person to hold.



Sometimes the most loving thing we can say isn't:

"I'm worried about you."


It's:

"You don't have to carry this alone."


That message doesn't add weight.

It helps carry it.



If my writing has made you feel supported, I want to make sure I can keep doing it.


Become a paying member of the HYPE WOMEN email community here.



xoxo,


Erin

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