Blend In or Stand Out? A Journey Back to Myself

“The greatest discovery in life is self-discovery. Until you find yourself you will always be someone else. Become yourself.” - Myles Munroe.

It’s a question that has echoed through different seasons of my life—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly. And when I trace it back, I realise it began much earlier than I thought…

When I was about ten, my mum’s friend suggested I join the local amateur theatre company. Every time she saw me, I was singing and dancing around the living room. So, I went—and from the moment I stepped into that space, I knew it was for me.

I threw myself into musicals and plays, especially during school holidays. I joined a talent team that performed everywhere you could imagine. I took singing and dance lessons. Nothing else really mattered. I loved becoming different characters, wearing costumes, putting on makeup, and being on stage. It made my heart sing—and I was good at it.

But looking back now, I realise something deeper: I felt most confident when I was playing someone else — telling someone else’s story. Wearing a mask, stepping into a role—it gave me permission to shine without the vulnerability of being fully seen. It was easier to be a character than to be myself.

In my early twenties, things began to shift. I started noticing how many others were just as good—if not better. My confidence began to waver. Auditions became nerve-wracking. I’d fall apart, and the roles stopped coming. What once lit me up became something I wanted to hide from.

Life moved forward in quiet, expected ways—I got engaged, bought a home, and continued working. I found myself in the familiar rhythm of adult life—juggling responsibilities, work, holidays, and time with loved ones. I held various roles in administration, where I became known for being both efficient and uplifting. I’ve always felt that if we spend so much of our lives working, we deserve to enjoy it too.

But here’s the thing: whenever I stuck my head out, even just a little—volunteered for something, shared an idea, showed a spark—I felt a pull to shrink back. Sometimes it came from others, but more often, it came from me. I wanted to be liked, to be included. And to do that, I felt I had to blend in. I couldn’t stand out too much. I couldn’t be too much.

There were people who saw me as a threat and weren’t shy about putting me back in my place. But more often, it was my own voice whispering, "Go with the flow, Emma. Don’t rock the boat. It’s easier this way."

And yet… a part of me wasn’t happy. A part of me did want to stand out. A part of me just wanted to be me.

That’s when the shift began. Quiet. Subtle. But real.

I realised that life isn’t about choosing between blending in or standing out. It’s about being authentically, unapologetically yourself. Some people will be drawn to that. Others won’t. And that’s okay.

It was like a quiet, deafening realisation: to be myself, I first had to truly discover who I was.
Not through the noise of others’ opinions or my own self-doubt—but through stillness. Through reflection. Through allowing.

And it’s not always easy. The noise—external and internal—can be loud. But just like I once loved being in musicals, I now see that this is my stage. Only now, I’m not playing a part. I’m not wearing a mask. I’m not hiding behind a character.

This is my story. And the show is called Myself. Starring the one and only me.

There isn’t just one version of me—there are many. Each shaped by the choices I make, the people I meet, the places I go, and the tower moments I move through. To truly be happy, I’ve learned to embrace who I am right now, knowing that at any given moment, this can change. And slowly but surely, I’m learning to allow that growth to take place.

I’ve realised I don’t need to blend in or stand out. I just need to be me—in whatever shape, energy, or expression that takes. Some days I’m bold. Some days I’m quiet. Some days I’m both. But in all of it, I’m real. And that’s enough.

I’ve lived through many versions of myself—and I’m excited for the ones still to come.
Every day, I choose to be the best version of me. Some days I nail it. Some days, not so much. But in every version, I’m still me, evolving—and I look forward to seeing who I become.

Maybe the real question isn’t whether I blend in or stand out—but whether I’m willing to be fully, fearlessly myself.