#136. What Are You Going As?

Have the stores near you been overflowing with Halloween costumes for weeks? Witches, superheroes, monsters, princesses, and a few creations that defy explanation.

And what are you going as for all the other days of the year?

Halloween gives us permission to play. Some people throw on a witch's hat and call it good. Others spend weeks constructing costumes so elaborate they deserve their own dressing rooms and production assistants.

There's something wonderfully liberating about dressing up. We understood that as children. A towel tied around your shoulders became a cape. A blanket draped over two chairs was a castle. A cardboard box could be a spaceship, a racecar, or a house.

We didn't worry if it was "authentic." We were playing. Trying things on. Finding out what it felt like to be powerful, elegant, brave, magical—or simply someone different for an afternoon. When did we stop giving ourselves permission to do that?

A costume can be an act of liberation and possibility. We step into different roles. We try on a bolder version of ourselves now and then. A fabulous outfit, dramatic glasses, a new hairstyle, an outrageous Halloween costume can sometimes make us feel more like ourselves, not less.

Then there are the disguises we wear that society approves of: Competent Woman Who Has Everything Handled; Easygoing Woman Who Doesn't Mind; Helpful Woman Who Can Squeeze One More Thing In; or Woman Who Is Absolutely Fine, Thank You.

That last one seems especially popular these days. When the world is loud and exhausting, sometimes the easiest thing to put on in the morning is a convincing expression of I've got this.

Those disguises can be useful, too. Sometimes we need a little protection to get through the meeting, the family dinner, the difficult day.

The trouble comes when we forget we're wearing one. Wear a disguise long enough, and other people believe it. Wear it even longer, and we might start believing it ourselves.

That's where authenticity gets interesting. Being true to ourselves doesn't mean behaving exactly the same way in every room. It doesn't mean stripping away every role, flourish, or fabulous pair of shoes until we arrive at some solemn, unadorned "real self."

Good grief. Where's the fun in that?

We contain multitudes. We can be serious and silly, cautious and adventurous, capable and uncertain. We adapt. We experiment. We play. None of those selves makes the others less real.

We can put on the costume and discover how it feels to be audacious. Glamorous. Adventurous. Mysterious. Powerful. Maybe the woman who comes out to play isn't somebody else at all. Maybe she's a piece of us who doesn't get out often enough.

So, have fun and wear the costume. Just don't confuse it with your skin.

This Halloween, maybe the question isn't only what you're going as. Ask yourself who dressing up gives you permission to be. And whether that woman might deserve to come out and play more than once a year.