"Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
James Baldwin
Growing up I had a practiced persona so good my mom couldn’t tell it wasn’t real. Unfortunately, neither could I.
You see, I became a method actor at the age of 13.
To this day I’ve never graced a stage but it’d be an understatement to say I had a talent for deception.
As I got older, I crafted a mask to accompany my skills. One to cover up my insecurities – to let me be whoever I wanted to be.
The mask worked for a while but I hade made a miscalculation. Insecurities don’t dissipate in the dark, they grow.
Wanting to keep the charade going, I added layer upon layer to my facade hoping to keep the spreading self-doubt from spilling out.
Eventually, my meticulously crafted mask became too cumbersome, my insecurities an epidemic.
I was at the end of myself, unable to muster up the energy to carry on my performance. So I left the stage.
Like an actor entering their dressing room after a show, I proceeded to remove my costume, but my mask wouldn’t budge.
As I peered into the mirror, I realized it had been stitched upon my very being.
Desperate, I began clutching at the strands poking from its seams hoping to find one that might give. Slowly I pulled and painfully they began to come undone.
Strand by strand.
Piece by piece.
Never fast.
Never without effort.
Ten years later, the mask is off and my journey of self-love is in full swing.
At times I find myself getting weary of the internal work that seems to be ever before me. Then, almost serendipitously, another piece of the authentic tapestry that is me is revealed. These moments with self affirm the work. They keep me going, reminding me that my unmasking hasn’t been my undoing.
It’s been my rebirth.
Reflection:
What strategies have I tried in the past to cope with my insecurities?
Which have been helpful and which have hindered my progress toward self-love?
Care to share? I’d love to hear about your journey of unmasking.
I didn’t realize my mask had layers. I did the surface-level work, but in marriage, the residue is evident—an inheritance I don’t want.
My mask is generational. I see it. I can’t ignore it any longer. I must stand face-to-face with it, and my faith in Jesus helps. My community helps. Honesty helps.
Thanks for your honesty! The journey is tiring, AND I see baskets full of hope at the other end of the table.
Ohhhhhh boy I feel ya!
I used my sexuality to mask a fuck load of deeply entrenched unworthiness and when it was time to begin unmasking very few believed me when I told them how much I’d been suffering inside the whole time.
It was interesting how attached I was to people ‘understanding’ how much I’d been covering up, I wanted them to know and see my pain rather than just be surprised at how unworthy I’d felt!