“Allowing attachments to people/things create a compulsive addiction in us to be controlling. This “control” (fueled by fear of loss) fools us into a false sense of security and love.” ― Gary Hopkins

“Is it real or is it Memorex?” was a popular advertising slogan from the early 80s – some 43 years ago – for cassette recording tapes that a younger generation may not recognize or identify with, but those my age likely remember. Memorex was the brand of audio recording tapes known to offer the most authentic and clear recording and representation to the point that the listener would not be able to tell if they were listening to the actual conversation or performance or it was simply being played back on audio tape.

I love photography and know that sometimes retouching or photoshopping a photo has real aesthetic necessity – to remove blemishes in a portrait or other undesirable objects behind someone’s head.

An admiring audience may find a photo online or in a magazine that has been airbrushed or photoshopped using any number of editing software programs the most common of which is Photoshop.

Artists may find themselves inadvertently telling someone that the image being shown is an actual photograph when the photo is real, but the experience being given to the one perceiving the photo isn’t seeing reality, but rather an enhanced image. 

We see it all the time in magazine ads — the model has a smaller waistline in the photo that she would if you were standing next to her. The man’s upper body strength is enhanced or gray hair removed to portray a more vibrant and youthful image.

Am I fake? Am I a photoshopped version of who I am supposed to be?

What is a lie? It is important to note each person has their own definition of what is considered a lie; what is considered a white lie; if lying is acceptable, in what circumstances it is acceptable, and how far the truth may be bent before it is considered a regular lie. In our American culture, the expression is to bend the truth, which means there is some basis of truth but it can be twisted and distorted to tell a different story—one that fits a certain narrative. One just has to watch the news to experience what distortion of a partial truth is like. It is not the same as a white lie. It is also important to note that cultural norms change over time especially within each generation, so what was once considered unacceptable may now be acceptable and the context has shifted.

Then there is a gray area: Is it a lie to not tell the entire truth, to remain silent instead of truthfully answering a question, to answer a question in a vague way for which the intended meaning could be construed in many ways (e.g. what is called political mumbo-gumbo or word salad; it’s a lot of words that sound good but mean nothing), or how far the truth can acceptably be bent (especially in regards to interpreting information and statistics, truth in advertisements and truth in the news)? 

In my own journey of self-discovery, I have stumbled upon the most haunting question—a question I may never be able to answer: Am I fake? Am I merely a fabrication of of the societal expectations and personal illusions I have built for myself? This introspective journey delves into my past for sure, unraveling the threads of my existence to scrutinize the very core of my being, but it also asks the question of how I am living my life currently.

As I pour over the landscape of my past, it’s obvious for me to see the moments that cast shadows of doubt on the authenticity of my identity. The echoes of societal norms and expectations reverberate through the years, leaving me to question whether my choices and beliefs are genuinely mine or a result of external influence. But are there events that have taken place in my life that have shared my future, because I was living the life of a somewhat fake.

Of course in my formative years, societal pressures molded my perceptions and behaviors — never let anyone know I was raped and never let anyone know that I am part of a group hated and unaccepted by most as a member of the LGBTQ community even though I would not allow myself to participate in the members events and such. The desire for acceptance and validation led me to conform to predefined standards, blurring the lines between my true self and the persona I presented to the world. The masks I wore to navigate social landscapes become artifacts of self-doubt, prompting me to question the authenticity of my actions.

The past unfolds like a tale of two lives lived at once filled with experiences, relationships, and self-discovery. As I reflect on the difficult moments that shaped me, I grapple with the realization that my identity is a dynamic construct, evolving in response to life’s myriad influences.

Friendships, familial expectations, and societal norms contributed to the construction of my identity. The question arises: Have I authentically embraced these influences, or have I unwittingly become a product of external expectations? The tension between societal conformity and personal authenticity becomes a recurring theme, prompting me to reevaluate the foundations of my sense of self.

Amidst the overwhelming amount of doubt I lived with, I navigated the intricate pathways of self-validation. The quest for authenticity should become a relentless pursuit, marked by moments of clarity and confusion, but that didn’t happen for me. The echoes of past decisions reverberate, challenging me to discern whether they were genuine expressions of my desires or mere adaptations to societal norms — adaptations reflecting the private and silent life I had built for myself.

The desire for external validation becomes a constant companion, a shadow that obscures the authenticity of my intentions. Have I been living for myself, or have I been playing a role dictated by the expectations of others? The struggle to break free from the shackles of external validation becomes a defining chapter in my journey toward self-discovery.

As I continue to traverse the landscape of self-interrogation, I encounter the paradox of authenticity – the acceptance of imperfections. Authenticity is not a flawless masterpiece but a mosaic of strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices. The realization that authenticity does not equate to perfection liberates me from the burden of self-doubt.

In embracing my imperfections, I discover the authenticity woven into the fabric of my being. The scars of past mistakes become markers of growth, testaments to a journey filled with twists and turns. The narrative of authenticity shifts from a binary question to a nuanced exploration of the complexity inherent in the human experience.

The journey through the past and the intricacies of personal introspection has been a voyage into the depths of authenticity. The question of whether I am fake becomes less about a definitive answer and more about an ongoing process of self-discovery. Authenticity, it seems, is a dynamic and evolving narrative, shaped by the interplay of internal convictions and external influences. In the quest to unravel the enigma of selfhood, I find solace in the realization that the authenticity I seek is not a destination but a perpetual journey of self-acceptance and growth.