Courage in Disguise

Halloween always makes me think about masks. At first, it’s the fun kind—the ones with glitter and face paint, the costumes that let kids transform into superheroes, witches, or anything they can imagine. But when the candy is eaten and the costumes are tucked away, I realize that masks don’t just belong to Halloween. We carry them with us every day.

Some are carefully crafted to help us fit in. Some protect us from judgment or rejection. Others are built out of fear—fear of being “too much,” fear of not being enough, fear of what people might say if they saw the real us. They can look like perfectionism, like staying quiet when we want to speak up, or like following the crowd when our hearts long to take a different path.

For years, I wore my share of masks. The “I’ve got everything under control” mask. The “I’ll play it safe so I won’t fail” mask. Even the “don’t shine too bright or people won’t like you” mask. They served a purpose for a time, but they also kept me small.

It’s only when I’ve dared to peel them back—to step into the room and say what I truly think, to try something new without worrying if I looked foolish, to admit that I don’t always have the answers—that I’ve felt the weight lift. There’s a freedom in showing up as yourself, raw edges and all.

What strikes me most is that courage doesn’t always look like slaying dragons or standing on a stage. Sometimes courage is disguised as a shaky first step. Sometimes it’s disguised as a quiet truth spoken out loud. Sometimes it’s just being willing to show up without the mask.

And right now, I’m watching my daughter teach me this lesson in real time. She’s stepping into high school, a season that can so easily pull kids into the pressure of fitting in, of trying to be what everyone else expects. But what I see in her is something different. She’s daring to lean into who she really is. She’s taking risks, trying new things, and little by little, becoming the best version of herself—not the version others might want her to be, but the one she chooses to be.

There’s such beauty in that. She reminds me that courage isn’t about never feeling fear; it’s about feeling it and moving forward anyway. It’s about trusting that your voice matters, your quirks are part of your light, and your heart knows the way, even if the world has a different script in mind.

Her journey calls me higher. It nudges me to take off my own disguises, to step outside of my comfort zone, to stop worrying so much about what other people think. Because when we stop hiding, when we live with open hands and open hearts, we create space for others to do the same.

So this Halloween, as I watch kids put on costumes and race through the night, I can’t help but think: maybe the bravest thing we can do isn’t about what we put on—it’s about what we take off.

And maybe the real treat waiting for us isn’t found in a candy bucket at all. Maybe it’s the sweet freedom of being fully, unapologetically ourselves.