
It has taken me a long time to learn how to be authentic in my relationships.
I’m still learning.
But I now understand something I didn’t always know:
I have the right to set boundaries — and when I do, how I deliver them matters.
Authenticity isn’t just about what we say.
It’s also about when we say it and the state of our nervous system when we do.
For a long time, I believed that being authentic meant being honest at all costs. I’ve since learned that honesty without regulation isn’t always integrity. Sometimes it’s simply emotional discharge.
One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned about authenticity is this:
Honesty spoken in the heat of emotion isn’t always integrity.
I remember a time when I tried to explain my boundaries to a group I was part of — but I did it while I was still flooded. I was hurt. Reactive. My nervous system was activated.
I was being honest, but I wasn’t regulated.
And the emotional charge carried more weight than the message itself.
It didn’t land well. And looking back, that makes sense.
Authenticity doesn’t mean saying everything the moment we feel it.
It asks us to pause.
To let the nervous system settle.
To speak from clarity, not charge.
This was a humbling realization for me — and an important one. Because true authenticity isn’t harsh or impulsive. It’s grounded. It’s intentional. And it can be kind.
Another lesson came later — and it was quieter, but no less significant.
There was a relationship in my life where I clearly named what I needed in order to stay present and grounded. I wasn’t asking for agreement — just for space from conversations that consistently unsettled my nervous system.
When it became clear that this wasn’t possible, authenticity asked me to do something uncomfortable.
Let go.
This wasn’t a dramatic decision. It wasn’t made in anger. It came from listening — deeply — to what my body had been telling me for some time.
Authenticity doesn’t always keep relationships intact.
Sometimes, it keeps you intact.
That realization shifted everything for me. Boundaries, I learned, aren’t rejection. They’re alignment.
One of the greatest gifts of authenticity is the way it supports our nervous system.
When we stop performing…
When we stop over-explaining…
When we stop saying yes while our body is screaming no…
Our nervous system begins to settle.
Authenticity reduces internal conflict. It brings coherence between what we think, feel, and do. And that coherence feels like calm.
Not excitement.
Not intensity.
But steadiness.
And steadiness is a sign of safety.
Authenticity also transforms the quality of our relationships.
When we’re authentic:
We stop trying to manage how we’re perceived and start showing up as we are. And while this doesn’t guarantee ease, it does create a cleaner connection.
We don’t connect through perfection.
We connect through presence.
Communities don’t become authentic by accident.
They become authentic when safety is intentional.
I’ve also experienced how powerful authenticity can be when it’s held within a clear, intentional container.
I’m part of a Women’s Circle where, from the very beginning, we agreed on simple ground rules:
deep listening, no fixing, no interrupting, and a shared commitment to honesty without judgment.
Those agreements changed everything.
Because the space felt safe, the sharing became authentic — not dramatic, not performative, not rushed. Women spoke from presence rather than urgency. From truth rather than charge.
What struck me most was how regulating the experience was. When people know they won’t be judged, corrected, or talked over, their nervous systems soften. And when nervous systems soften, authenticity naturally follows.
That experience reinforced something important for me:
authenticity doesn’t thrive in chaos.
It thrives in clear, compassionate structure.
Perhaps most importantly, authenticity ripples outward.
When one person becomes more authentic — more regulated, more grounded, more honest — it creates safety for others to do the same.
Authenticity in community doesn’t look like everyone oversharing or agreeing. It looks like:
It creates environments where people don’t have to perform to belong.
I share these stories not because I’ve mastered authenticity, but because I’m committed to practicing it.
I’m learning that authenticity is not a single act of courage, but a collection of choices:
And sometimes, to choose myself — even when it’s uncomfortable.
Authenticity is not loud.
It’s not perfect.
It’s not always easy.
But it is honest.
And it is deeply regulating.
And for me, that has made all the difference.
Thanks to Freepik for the image
About the author
Cindi Bergen
Cindi has a master’s degree in Instructional and Performance Technology, and has studied positive psychology and Appreciative Inquiry (a transformational change methodology grounded in the disciplines of sociology, psychology, and organizational behavior). She spent her career in training and development supporting a Fortune 500 company.
Her work in First Create Happiness—whether in the book, online classes, or coaching— is based on solid research pulled from the pioneers of the positive psychology movement, studies into the correlation between the heart and the brain, quantum physics, and from the spiritual masters of the unseen realm. First Create Happiness provides a roadmap for anyone who is ready to take the first step on their journey to joy, creating an authentic life that reflects who they are and the manifestation of their deepest desires.