Insecure cardboard

It starts early. You’re a kid. You show up and do a thing. Maybe it’s something you said funny without knowing the proper way to use the word. Maybe it’s not being able to throw a ball well and getting teased for it. Maybe it goes back further with family where it wasn’t safe to experiment and be you. 

Insecurity builds up. 

You start to question your value as a person. 

This carries on through adolescence and into adulthood, and you find yourself holding up a cardboard cutout of yourself in front of the world. 

Look at this, not me. The cutout is perfect, flawless. It shows a catered outward expression exactly as the world wants to see. They’re happy with it, or at the very least seem to accept it. Nobody teases the cardboard. 

For a time this is great. You’ve avoided the ridicule. You can breathe, you can find time to improve the cutout. Maybe you paint on a face, maybe it becomes funnier, witty, or; and this is where things start to really deteriorate, it becomes an attempt at being the smartest cardboard in the room to the detriment of others. It becomes the one that teases those who didn’t know they were supposed to hide. 

I don’t want that cardboard. Maybe some people do, but I don’t. And I’ll bet there are more people out there like me. 

Show me the real you. I’m not talking about a real you that’s harmful to others, that’s a whole other topic entirely and one where professional help comes in. 

What I want to see is the odd you, the awkward version that tries stuff out and fails, the version that is imperfect. I don’t want to see the cardboard cutout. It looks just like the millions of others walking around the world, all perfect, all fragile, all unable to exist in the world in anything but an imperfect impression of what the real thing could be. 

That’s not the world we were meant to live in, it’s not the place you and I want to really create together. 

Now, sometimes the cardboard needs to pop back up to keep us safe. Sometimes you’re in a room with a bunch of other cardboard and being the only one to let it down could be dangerous for your job, for your personal safety, or for numerous other reasons. In those situations, consider your options. Look for someone else who is peeking a tiny bit around the edge of their cutout, someone giving you a glimpse of them; the real them. 

When you see that, let them know that you’re open to the same; maybe the two of you could start something new. 

A world, a room, a business, a community, any place where there’s less cardboard and more people has the opportunity to become something uniquely human. We’re all weird. Every single one of us. We’re awkward, stumble over our words, unsure of so many things. 

The people who have it all figured out are pretending. 

If you’ve let down your cardboard, be kind to those still holding it up. They’re scared, not sure if it’s safe, and in some cases, they don’t even know that they’re doing it. They learned too young the importance of a protective shield. Be kind to them, hand out a helping hand, and drop hints that it’s okay to have their protection up or down; either is safe. 

But know that a world where a few of us are brave enough to let down our cardboard opens the chance for others to do the same. 

I’ve had the privilege of working with so many great team members of the last two decades. Sometimes I saw glimpses of the real person behind the cardboard, sometimes I could never break through, and sometimes the weirdness of someone came out in a delightful, unique way. Through each situation, I was able to see that I was holding up a protection and slowly, sometimes not fully, I’ve been able to let it go. 

This means you’ll miss out on some things. Some places aren’t safe to be you. Decide in each situation what you’ll do and be kind to yourself. There’s no right or wrong answer here, but there is a beautiful path forward if enough of us can see it or are willing to take it. 

I had a realization years ago that there is no standard person. There isn’t a single human on this planet that represents the average human. We’re all different and odd and unique in different ways. When we let the cardboard down, we offer others the chance to see our realness, and that’s beautiful.