The Messy Authentic
Not enough people are being honest. Let’s change that.
I was one of them. Censored, silenced, deleted — mostly by my own hand.
When I rejoined Facebook a few years ago, I posted a video. I remember it vividly. I was wearing alternating colors of nail polish (don’t judge) and talking about my online therapy business. Shortly after, I went to see one of my many therapists — what can I say, I’m a therapy junkie — and she mentioned she’d seen it.
“I saw your video,” she said. “But I could see right through the mask. I saw the pain. I couldn’t ‘like’ a post when I could see you hurting like that.”
She didn’t message me privately to check-in, either. That added a different kind of sting.
My pain was right there for all to see, barely filtered, yet no one felt motivated to reach out. You’d think close friends would point it out, right? Now that would be authentic.
I looked back at that video recently. I wasn’t in a good place. Yet, I was still seeing clients and doing a damn fine job. Would I post it again today? No. It felt disingenuous, though not intentionally so. I was just doing what we all do: the best I could. I was re-learning the “rules” of the digital social contract. What is okay to post? What isn’t?
Then came the eureka moment: It is okay to be authentic. Except when it isn’t.
The Spectator’s Critique
The people who criticize my posts rarely do it in the comments. They wait until they see me in person. The most vocal critics are usually those who post nothing at all, or stick to “safe” content: sunsets, dinner plates, tame links.
That’s fine. Go for it. But there is a word for people who refuse to step into the arena themselves yet feel entitled to judge those of us getting dusty and bloodied. I can’t remember the word, and it doesn’t matter. What matters is the lesson.
I realized that some of my past work was absolutely inauthentic. Years ago, I modeled myself as a sort of New Age guru. It’s embarrassing to look back on, but I’ve left the posts up. Why hide the process? I’ve also posted “fluff” because I was reaching out for connection without realizing how low I actually felt. In that specific way, my therapist was right.
I’ve also posted “safe” content because I had something to sell — a business, a radio show, a brand. I got it wrong. But not in the way the critics think.
The Great Contradiction
How many of us are inauthentic because we fear the silence of a “dislike”? How many of us perform “happiness” because we don’t want to be alone? We want to appear as connected, partnered, and family-focused as everyone else so that people will keep “liking” us.
People say they want authenticity, but they don’t really mean it.
When we intentionally show our pain, most people don’t want to fucking know. So, we pivot. We do something fascinating and deeply sad: We fake authenticity.
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We curate a version of “real” that is still palatable. We fake feeling better than we do so the “likes” keep coming. Because when you are overtly lonely, grieving, or messy, people “can’t like the post because they see the pain.”
So I ask: what am I allowed to post? If I’m “too real,” it’s uncomfortable. If I’m “fake real,” it’s a lie.
What, exactly is everyone comfortable with? Me — I like mess. A lot of it.
The Alchemy of the Mess
Here is what I’ve learned: When we get it wrong, it teaches us how to get it right — if we pay attention.
When we drift into the online expectation of sharing only our “best selves,” we lose the plot. It is usually our messiness that actually helps people.
You might not “like” my posts. That’s fine. I am being me. Get over it, get used to it, or fuck off.
When I see my friends’ “tame” posts, my ego flares up. I wish I had that simple life. I wish I had that partner. I wish my family looked like that. But the reality is simply that they are choosing not to post the “other” stuff.
Is that authentic? Maybe for them. But it’s not the authenticity I’m looking for.
I understand that those with partners and deep family roots can keep their messiness “in-house.” Their pain is heard by the person sitting across from them at dinner. They don’t need the digital void to listen.
But for me? And perhaps for you?
I am looking for the messiness. I want the ugly truth. I want the deep-down-and-dirty pain that refuses to be hidden for one more second.
I found it. And if you’re looking for it too? Welcome aboard.
Until then… if you need to be seen: My eyes are open.
In Love, IAmMattVC™ | The Alchemist (text by me, image by AI)
Do you want to find your own Alchemy? Whether it’s through writing, art, or just getting damn angry — I help people turn their leaden pain into gold. Work with me. Link in bio.
© 2026 Matt Valentine-Chase. All Rights Reserved.
