We all wear it.
Some days it looks like silence. Other days it’s a forced smile, a busy calendar, a project we overdeliver on just to prove we’re still valuable.
It’s not always metal or sharp edges. Sometimes our armor looks like a perfect resume. A curated Instagram feed. A smile that hides a thousand disappointments. Or just the ability to say “I’m good” when we’re anything but.
I didn’t always recognize mine.
But I’ve been carrying it for years.
When I was a kid, my mom used to make us recite the Armor of God prayer in the car on the way to school. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt strong. Like I was gearing up for battle in some invisible war no one warned me about.
At the time, it was comforting. It gave me a sense of control in a world that didn’t always make sense. It reminded me that I was protected, that I could walk into anything and come out okay.
Looking back, that prayer did more than offer spiritual grounding—it shaped the way I approached the world. With a quiet, steady confidence that I’d be okay. But as life got more complicated, I built a different kind of armor. One that was less about faith… and more about fear.
The kind that told me to keep it together even when I wasn’t okay.
The kind that made me shrink in rooms where I didn’t feel like I belonged.
The kind that made me hustle just to feel worthy.
I know I’m not the only one.
Psychologists describe these responses as defense mechanisms—unconscious tools we develop to protect ourselves from emotional pain, rejection, or trauma (Cramer, 2000). And they work. For a while. Until they don’t.
Some of the most common forms of armor we wear?
Perfectionism – A shield against criticism. If everything’s flawless, no one can judge you.
Overachievement – A way to prove your worth in a world that doesn’t always see you.
Avoidance – Emotional ghosting when things get too heavy. Distance becomes safety.
People-pleasing – Disguised as kindness, but rooted in the fear of not being enough.
Detachment or humor – Turning pain into punchlines before anyone gets too close.
What’s wild is that many of us learned these strategies before we had words for them.
We saw how our parents handled pain—or didn’t. We watched our culture reward stoicism and punish softness. We inherited the silence, the shame, the emotional language of survival.
According to attachment theory, when emotional expression isn’t modeled or welcomed early on, we adapt. We armor up (Mikulincer & Shaver, 2007). We stay quiet. We learn that being vulnerable is dangerous, so we trade authenticity for safety.
But here’s the catch:
The very thing that protects us also keeps us disconnected.
Not just from others—but from ourselves.
When we build personal brands, careers, or relationships from a place of armor, we end up performing instead of connecting. We create personas instead of presence. And somewhere in between the hustle and the highlight reel, we lose sight of the real us.
The brand becomes polished, but it’s no longer true.
And you can’t build something sustainable—or healing—on top of a mask.
Brené Brown (2012) says it plainly: “Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.” In other words, if you want your brand, your work, your impact to be resilient—it has to be real.
But I get it. Real feels risky.
Letting go of armor means facing the stuff we’ve been hiding from—disappointment, grief, imposter syndrome, unmet expectations, fear of failure, fear of being seen too clearly.
It’s terrifying.
It’s also where transformation starts.
That doesn’t mean we rip off the armor all at once. Sometimes it’s more like soft unlayering. Quiet decisions. Brave pauses.
Here are a few small things I’ve learned to practice:
Name the armor. Ask yourself: What am I using to protect myself right now? Is it control? Avoidance? Performance?
Create safer spaces. Whether it’s therapy, prayer, journaling, or just an honest conversation—make room for what’s real.
Pause before deflecting. Notice when you say “I’m fine” too quickly. Or when humor becomes a defense.
Affirm your enoughness. Daily. Even silently. Say it when you least believe it.
Let the cracks show. Not to everyone. But to someone. Vulnerability builds trust. And trust heals what performance never could.
Research shows that vulnerability and self-acceptance aren’t just good for mental health—they’re key to authentic identity development and long-term well-being (Neff, 2011; Rogers, 1961). In a world that pushes curated self-image, authenticity becomes radical.
So yeah, I still remember that old Armor of God prayer.
And I still believe in spiritual protection.
But these days, my armor looks different.
It looks like self-awareness. Like rest. Like boundary-setting. Like choosing to be honest even when it’s uncomfortable. Like telling someone “Actually, I’m not doing great” instead of smiling through it.
Some days, I still hear my mom’s voice in my head, whispering that old prayer. And I realize now that what she gave me wasn’t armor to hide behind—it was courage to walk through the world without fear.
To stand tall, even when things felt shaky.
To believe that I didn’t need to be tough to be valuable.
Maybe that’s what we all need.
Not thicker skin. But softer hearts, clearer minds, and the guts to take off the armor—even if just for a moment.
That, to me, is the kind of strength that builds a personal brand worth following.
Not the one who looks invincible—but the one who knows where the scars came from, and still shows up anyway.
Because that’s where real confidence lives—not in how well we hide, but in how boldly we begin to let ourselves be seen.
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References
Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. Gotham Books.
Cramer, P. (2000). Defense mechanisms in psychology today: Further processes for adaptation. American Psychologist, 55(6), 637–646. https://doi.org/10.1037/0003-066X.55.6.637
Mikulincer, M., & Shaver, P. R. (2007). Attachment in Adulthood: Structure, Dynamics, and Change. Guilford Press.
Neff, K. D. (2011). Self-compassion, self-esteem, and well-being. Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 5(1), 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1751-9004.2010.00330.x
Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin.