I used to want to be understood and I used to complain that I was misunderstood.
Maturity is a funny thing because now I see that this cycle–wanting something and resenting the world when I didn’t receive it–was created and nurtured entirely by me.
I am my own undoing. I am the reason I felt unseen.
I used to cry when I was left out, but I didn’t ask to participate.
I used to decline invitations, then ache when I didn’t get more.
I used to fear sitting by myself, but I didn’t share my secrets.
I used to run away, then panic when I was alone.
I am not blaming myself or carrying shame around this realization. I’m simply grappling with what it means now–as I move through my new phase of life, one that has stripped away the mask I’ve been wearing for twenty-five years.
In the last year, I have completely taken it off (at least, as far as I know).
When I imagine the mask that now sits in front of me, I’m struck by how different it is from the face underneath.
The mask is enormous and heavy. It’s made of concrete–thick, blunt, and featureless. Its exaggerated eyes, nose, and mouth barely resemble anything human. It didn’t just cover my face; it extends down my neck and chest, like an old-school diving helmet.
It is male or female? Alive or dead?
Those unanswered questions are exactly what I built for the outside world to witness. This was my performance–carefully constructed since I was a teenager. It didn’t appear all at once, but once the initial pieces were set in place, I reinforced it, broadened it, thickened it.
I rarely removed it, except in brief moments when I needed air and this only occurred when I was alone with myself. Sometimes, I extended this rarity to my soulmate, but even then, he was only given momentary glimpses.
That’s painful to acknowledge, but necessary.
Looking back, it’s easy to understand why the sudden removal of this mask feels shocking to the audience. Why they gasp at the “transformation” and why they long for the familiar mask rather than this wild, unfamiliar face underneath.
My instinct is to shout into the ether: It’s me, you idiots. It’s me! I’ve been me this whole time!
But I know that isn’t the truth. And once I let the truth settle, the anger fades. The sadness softens. They experienced what I showed them, and I did not show them me. I showed them the mask.
And now that the mask is gone–so dramatically altered–I appear to be the illusion.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
What remains now is this deep, aching longing to be seen. It hums so loudly inside my body I can barely contain it. All the pieces of myself that were hidden don’t want to gently rise to the surface.
They want to explode into the universe.
I don’t know if there’s a right or wrong way to do this, and even as I type that sentence, I know there isn’t. It’s just my way.
So here I am, removing not only the mask, but the armor. Standing exposed. Attempting to rip open my skin and show my blood, my fibers, my core.
It’s dramatic.
And I am dramatic.
I am extreme.
I am intense.
I have held myself back for so long that I don’t simply hunger for connection–I crave it. I am desperate and feral and unsatiated. I want to consume connection the way a starving vampires longs for blood. Sleepless. Reckless. Willing to burn at dawn for one more drop. , I am admittedly a little desperate and rabid and I want to consume connection.
I know the tidy answer here is to find peace, and I am doing that, too. But I also know that suppressing this roaring desire would only rebuild the mask and I refuse to do that again.
The floodgates are open.
I will work towards the deep, sustainable peace I’ve tasted on this journey.
And I will allow myself to explode at the same time.
I am capable of both.
I am creator and destroyer.
Stillness and fire.
Silence and scream.
This is the world I am building for myself now.
I will shed and race forward towards the flames.
I will skid to a stop and sit in silence.
I will do all of it–again and again–until a new path reveals itself.
And this time, the path will be wild.
It will be messy.
It will be honest.
It will be mine.
