The Optics of Reinvention

“We see you everywhere,” someone said recently. I smiled and replied, “Optics.” Because that’s what you do—smile and nod.

But if you only know me from social media, you don’t know the story. You see the reels, the filtered shots, the moments I choose to share. And that’s okay. Social media isn’t where soul work happens. It’s a highlight reel—not the real work.

It may look amazing—and sometimes, it is. But being visible is not the same as being known, and being known has nothing to do with optics.

People scroll and make assumptions. We all do it. But assumptions are often wrong.

“We thought you left us in your dust,” she said. Never stopping to consider that the optics are also a business. Never imagining that someone leaves a career—not because they don’t care, but because they finally respect themselves enough not to stay stuck where they’re not valued.

Choosing to take less money to do what they love. Some of us leave what we love to make an impact. And sometimes, people assume you’ve left—but you never left at all.

Reinvention is beautiful. But it comes with an edge.

Through reinvention, a version of you should emerge that you love—not one that’s performative, polished, or palatable. In reinvention, you stop waiting and start asking for what you want. You stop shrinking. And you stop pretending that circumstances are the catalyst.

Because they’re not—not really.

Yes, sometimes it takes hitting what feels like rock bottom to finally listen. To stop doing it the way everyone else says it should be done. To realize that the exhaustion, the unraveling—they were just revealing what you’ve always known deep down.

The real catalyst is truth. Not the crisis, but the moment you stop outsourcing your instincts. When you tell yourself the truth—about what’s not working, what never did, and how you actually want to live. That’s when everything starts to change.

Not because the circumstances shifted. But because you did.

Transformation doesn’t begin with circumstances. It begins with truth—spoken, owned, and lived.

I heard someone say, “Grief is certain. Suffering is optional.” But I’m not sure we ever know who we are without the suffering. Because suffering strips us down to what’s real.

I often think of John 18:37—a verse I speak about in my talks and carry with me, inked into my skin. Jesus says to Pilate, “I am the truth.” Pilate responds with a question: “What is truth?” And then… he turns and walks away.

He asked the one person who was the answer—and didn’t stay long enough to hear it.

How often do we do the same? How often do we avoid the answers we’re searching for—because deep down, we know they might change everything?

Truth isn’t trendy. It’s not curated. It doesn’t shift with opinion. Truth is objective, absolute, and eternal. It won’t flatter you. But it will free you.

Mark Matousek wrote, “When you tell the truth, your story changes. And when your story changes, your life is transformed.”

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d have this peace, clarity, and strength—I would’ve said, yes, I want that. And I did.

But if they had told me the path it would take to get here, I’m not sure I would have believed it.

I left on a journey down a path that wasn’t mine. It looked right. I was promised it would get me there. But it didn’t bring me home.

I should have known—if there’s a clear path to follow, it’s probably not yours.

That road led me outward, chasing answers. This one—the one I’m on now—led me inward, into truth. It was an internal journey, and it couldn’t have brought me to a more beautiful place.

So what’s behind the optics?

It’s this. Not the version of me that needs to be liked. Not the version you think you understand. That’s all been burned away.

What remains is the one who gets back up and tells herself the truth. That somewhere along the way, she started taking advice that didn’t fit. Shortcuts that weren’t hers. Methods that didn’t feel right. And when the path started to go nowhere, she finally listened to the one voice she should have trusted all along—her own.

Because the path was mine. I just needed to walk it my way. And once I did, it brought me here—where the transformation is.

Until next time,

Andrea

The truth is already in you. Sometimes you need someone to help you hear it. https://www.andrealeigh.com/personal-reinvention