Masks

At the retreat that I attended on the weekend, we talked about the masks that we wear as we go about our day-to-day living. At first, I had a hard time recognizing my masks. Then I remembered the fake-it-til-I-make-it mask that I donned for the better part of last year.

As I went about my days at work, I was completely shocked when someone made a comment to the effect of "You are so calm", while on the inside my anxiety levels were running at an all time high. I was floored when even my mom mentioned to another family member (about a job that I quite detested) " ... but I like the way she is handling it". That was the job that penetrated the last of my reserves.

What I was most proud of, was when I wrote my way through a few months worth of the job that broke my spirit. I recognized the no-win situation that I was in at work, so I didn't devote energy to fighting what I could not overcome ... but instead focused on the small ways that I could make myself feel like I was making a difference. I refused to give energy to the negative, so I wrote about the positive.

I had a very astute friend who read between the lines and called me to talk me down through the worst of times. But I was getting the feeling that this was my battle and my battle alone to fight. So I fought it the only way I knew how. I secured my mask and just 'kept on swimming' ...

When that job ended, no one saw it coming. I had deflected my reality and had fooled those who knew me best. I was actually rather proud of the fact. Me, who usually wears my emotions on my sleeve. I had donned my mask and succeeded in protecting those around me from feeling all that I felt as I walked through those days.

My writing became more guarded. I started siphoning my thoughts. The free flow of words from my brain to my fingertips started to become less of me and more of the mask that I was wearing.

Then I started writing for a few papers. There was a (remote) possibility that a reader could follow me to this blog. So I continued to weigh my words and tread very carefully. This is not altogether a bad thing because (at first) I tried to weed out the inane thoughts that found their way to my blog. But in blocking the inane, the deeper thoughts became caught up in all that was left unwritten.

I have been fighting to find my words for quite a while now. Perhaps some of that fact is because I have stopped living fully. Finances, insecurities and my deep desire to cocoon myself within the warmth and safety of my home has overridden the side of myself that exists outside of these walls. But I know that the bigger part of the battle is because I censor myself so much more than I ever used to.

The masks that I wear have penetrated my writing. My writers block is quite possibly just that. A blockage of censored words stopping the natural flow from my subconscious mind to the keyboard.

I know that I need a place to let my words run free. Without restraint. Without worrying what anyone would think. Without censor.

It's just that I seem to be running low on words lately. I'm afraid of wasting the few words that I do have left ...