This is not a mask

I almost sent you something that wasn’t true.

Something I am guilty of is masking. I learned to do it as a child—nothing to see here, folks!—and have carried that habit with me ever since. I pick and choose what I share; I’m slow to open up about (or sometimes even identify) what’s really going on. For all this newsletter’s vulnerability, what I publish can be a form of masking, too. I weigh every word. I share some things and keep others locked tight. I offer up a life preserver full of wisdom when, in real life, I’m drowning.

Of course, it’s my right to choose what I want to share and what I want to keep to myself—especially when I’m writing to an audience of thousands.

But there’s a real risk of masking. Of acting like everything’s okay when it really, truly is not. Sometimes I mask so well that I convince myself things are fine. Other times, I mask so that friends and family don’t see what’s going on. In either case, I’m hiding from the truth. By acting like everything is okay, I’m inevitably making it worse.

I almost did it with you today.

I drafted an essay—satisfying ending and all—about a difficult weekend before it had even ended. I rushed to wrap it up in a hopeful bow instead of giving myself time to process what happened.

The observations felt true. But they were rushed. And the tidy conclusions were far from earned.

It was a mask. It was me trying to skip ahead to the part where I’d already learned the lesson. Nothing to see here, folks!

So this is me trying something different. Instead of trying to finish this newsletter, I texted some loved ones to say, hey, actually I’m not okay. I booked an appointment with a new therapist. I gave myself permission to take smaller steps instead of bounding toward an unearned ending.

I don’t have the lesson yet. I don’t have a hopeful ending to share. But I do have honesty. That’s worth something, too.

There’s something I need to see here, folks. It might take a while.

xoxo
KHG