The Art of Un-Becoming

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about un-becoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were really meant to be in the first place.” — Paulo Coelho

Another of those quotes that caught my attention and caused me to set it into my life. When I first read that quote, I hesitated. There’s a sting to it. It could sound like you’re broken and need fixing. But what if it’s not about brokenness at all? What if the “un-becoming” isn’t about rejecting yourself, but shedding the armor you’ve had to wear just to get through life?

For many LGBTQ+ people, that armor isn’t optional. It’s survival. You learn to carry yourself in ways that won’t draw suspicion. You change the way you speak, what you wear, even how you laugh. You measure every word before you say it. Over time, you can start to forget where the armor ends and you begin.

The life I didn’t live
I grew up in a small, conservative town. My plan had been to return after college and work in the family business. That plan ended the day I packed for Greensboro, North Carolina, to take a job with a large firm in the funeral industry.

At the time, I didn’t frame the move as an escape, but looking back, it was the first step toward un-becoming what I wasn’t. In Greensboro, I found my way out of the closet. It wasn’t a long, cautious easing out. It was meeting someone, falling in love, and stepping into the truth, not too many months after moving there.

But truth isn’t always simple. At work, some people knew. There were other gay people there, but no one broadcast it. Being out was still a careful dance. And outside of work, there were still choices.

The friend I lost
One of the first choices was realizing I wanted to be honest with the people who mattered to me. That involved telling my closest friend, a college buddy who had become like a brother to me. I believed honesty mattered more than comfort, so I told him. There was no argument, no slammed door. Just a quiet pulling away, messages that went unanswered, phone calls never returned. And then nothing.

That was decades ago, and I still miss that guy. I can still tear up thinking about it, wondering what it would be like to reconnect. His absence was my first real reminder that authenticity can cost you, and that the losses can leave a hole that never fully closes.

What the research says about hiding

That’s the cost of un-becoming. You start to take off the armor, and you learn who will stand with you and who will quietly step away. But there is also a cost to not removing the armor.

Psychologists call the long-term habit of hiding “self-concealment.” A 2019 study in the Journal of Counseling Psychology found that chronic self-concealment is linked to higher rates of anxiety, depression, and even physical health problems. For LGBTQ+ people, this aligns with the “minority stress” model. The idea is that the strain of living in a stigmatized identity, especially when it’s hidden, accumulates over time and can harm both mental and physical health.

What’s striking in the research is how much authenticity matters. Studies in Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin have shown that people who feel free to express their true selves report stronger relationships, greater life satisfaction, and lower stress levels.

The armor may keep you safe, but it also keeps you distant.

Why I wasn’t ready sooner
Looking back, I don’t think coming out in high school was even possible. In those years, the only times homosexuality came up were in the form of jokes or ridicule toward the effeminate kid. I learned quickly that it was something I didn’t want to be, or at least didn’t want others to see in me.

And in my small conservative hometown, it just didn’t get discussed. I didn’t have enough information to even realize that might be me.

By the time I was 18, I had come out to myself, but I didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. In college, I was busy, and frankly, I still didn’t know how to find other people “like me.” There’s some regret there, not for survival, but more about the opportunities to grow and connect that I missed. As dumb as it might sound today, I just didn’t know anything.

The freedom that followed
Coming out didn’t make life perfect, but it made it real. I felt lighter. Happier. Friendships became more genuine because I no longer had to filter my words or worry about slipping up. I was no longer performing a role. I was living as myself.

The research matches my experience. Psychologist Carl Rogers described authenticity as “congruence,” where your inner life and outer life align. When that happens, you can stop spending energy on hiding and start spending it on living.

I had shed enough of the armor to finally breathe.

Un-becoming with compassion
That’s why I think Coelho’s words ring true, if you read them with compassion. Un-becoming isn’t about rejecting the self you’ve been. That self kept you alive. That self made careful, strategic choices in a world that wasn’t always kind.

But there comes a time when the armor is more of a burden than a shield. When you realize you’re no longer in the same kind of danger, yet you continue to live as if you are. That’s when un-becoming matters.

The invitation
If you’ve worn armor for a long time, taking it off can feel terrifying. You’ll lose some people. You’ll lose parts of yourself you thought were permanent. But you may also find something you didn’t know you were missing: the freedom to be whole.

Maybe the journey really is less about becoming someone new and more about remembering who you were before the world told you who you were supposed to be.

____________________________________________
Paulo Coelho is a Brazilian novelist, best known for his 1988 novel The Alchemist, which became an international bestseller and has been translated into more than 80 languages. His works often explore themes of self-discovery, destiny, and the spiritual journey, and he has a reputation for writing in a simple but allegorical style that resonates across cultures.

His 1986 walk along the Camino de Santiago in Spain deeply influenced his life and writing. His book The Pilgrimage recounts that journey and the lessons he drew from it.

One thing to note: while this quote is widely attributed to Paulo Coelho online, I couldn’t confirm it from his verified works or interviews. It’s possible it’s one of those “internet quotes” loosely connected to his themes, but not from a published book. That doesn’t make it less useful; it just means it might be “Coelho-esque” rather than definitively his.

Series Navigation

<< “Healing or Hiding?”