The Cost of the Mask: A Forest Walk Through My Past
3-5 minute read
written on: July 22, 2025
by: Sunny Voitsekhovsky
This is the first time I’m sharing a blog that started as a raw journal entry — transcribed straight from a forest walk that turned into a heart walk. It’s more personal than usual. I hope it speaks to something in you. I hope it brings you a layer of transformation, or clarity, or comfort. And I hope I can continue writing more of these… alongside the content I create to help your business grow from the inside out.
The other day, I wandered through a nearby forest — the sunlight danced off the leaves, and every step I took stirred up clouds of dust from the dry earth beneath me. It reminded me of childhood. That magical moment when the dirt would puff under your feet like a little smoke signal from the earth saying, "You’re here. You exist."
And yet, for much of my life, I didn’t really feel like I existed.
At least not as myself.
For years, I wore a mask.
I masked to be liked.
I masked to be safe.
I masked to avoid rejection — to avoid abandonment.
I didn’t even ask to be understood.
I just did what I could to stay chosen.
Stay wanted. Stay acceptable.
The joke, though, was on me.
Because every time I put on that mask to protect myself… I walked a little further away from my true self.
I walked in alignment with rejection.
I walked in alignment with judgment.
And that’s exactly what I was met with — over and over again.
A forest doesn’t need to mask… it just is.
When you mask your true self in hopes of being accepted,
of feeling complete through someone else… rejection becomes inevitable.
Because sooner or later, your truth surfaces. And when it does, it might not match the story others have told themselves about you (based on how you presented). And so… they leave.
I always knew this. Deep down.
I remember thinking in relationships, “Eventually they’ll see the real me.”
Not a bad version — just me.
And when they did, I believed (and feared) they'd walk away… like my dad did.
Like the echo of every time he left, the ache in my chest and that heavy pit in my stomach would remind me — see? This is what happens.
A truth I didn’t want to face, but one I kept reliving anyway.
And unknowingly, I kept recreating that pain again and again.
For many cycles — the kind you'd swear were karmic or part of some cosmic punishment…
But really, it wasn’t karma.
It was a loop I didn’t yet know how to break.
Over and over, I built connections — both platonic and romantic — where I wore the mask just right. I became exactly who they needed me to be. Until I didn’t. Until I couldn’t. Until I just was… me.
And they left.
Because it wasn’t what they signed up for. Even if that "me" was beautiful, loving, loyal, and creative. It just didn’t align with the role they’d cast me in.
♡︎♡︎♡︎
In high school, it was the same. I was the people-pleaser, the one with no boundaries, the one who made others feel better at the expense of myself. When I started shedding that version… when I outgrew the mold… those friendships fell apart.
Not because I was awkward. Not because something was wrong with me. But because I was no longer useful in the way they wanted me to be.
And yet, for years, I blamed myself.
𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟏
Later, I ended up in a relationship that mirrored the worst parts of both of my parents. Emotionally abusive, controlling, gaslighting.
He had convinced me that even my high school friends abandoned me because I was awkward, weird, too much. He chipped away at the little confidence I had left (towards the end of our relationship) — and in the process, I began to believe it too.
But the truth?
The real issue wasn’t that I was awkward.
The real mistake I made was masking so hard and so completely that even my closest friends didn’t truly know me.
So when I started to show up as the real me — soft, bold, quirky, full of feelings, needs, and boundaries — I no longer fit their narrative. And they disappeared.
That’s not my fault. That’s self-protection.
It took me years to realize this:
Masking to connect is not real connection.
And when we chase belonging by abandoning ourselves, we lose the very people we tried to keep — but worse than that, we lose ourselves.
Here’s a photo of me as a kid on the right, happily eating strawberries (my favorite fruit growing up) and a photo of me in 2023 on the left.
Even then, all I really wanted was connection. Still do. 💫
That’s what happened in that abusive relationship. The worst part wasn’t even him. It was me — abandoning me. Losing my voice. Shrinking myself to nothing.
And I thought that was just the way it was. That this was my fate. My truth. My brokenness to carry.
But I was wrong. And I’m grateful for that.
Some mistakes become fantastic realizations.
And on that walk through the forest, with the leaves glistening and the dust rising up with every step like a gentle reminder from the earth — I realized I’m not walking away from myself anymore.
I’m walking home.
