“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” ― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter (Source: Goodreads)
I was going to name this entry A Masks for all seasons, but it didn’t feel right.
I know I’ve talked about people wearing masks and not being true to themselves (https://nbgwen.wordpress.com/2015/04/30/be-yourself/). Some days I find it so hard to tell if I am really being me, or the me that developed over time due to whatever constraints have existed in the span of my life (real or imagined).
I fear that my mask is so deeply imbedded that it will take brute force of will to remove it, a searing of the flesh if you will.
When my step-daughter first met me (my ex-husband’s daughter, we’re close) she said I was so carefree and full of life. The zest has been erased over time, eroded as the shore against the waves.
It doesn’t matter how I look, what my hair is like – none of that matters. Something deep within me was broken and I’ve been woefully inadequate at piecing it back together. Some times I think I feel it. It quickly crumbles under any guise and I once again lift the mask to my self.
I want so much – I want to study, to read, to be happy and carefree. I want my anxiety to go away, my depression to lift, my pain to dissipate into the ether.
Do I want too much? Do I ask too much of this universe? I work so hard to attain what everyone wants of me, where did I lose what I wanted for me? I am sure I could pinpoint it. A specific point in time where I was convinced to shorten my education in favour of returning home – after all, I was getting married, why would I need to continue? Yes, why. Where was my backbone? Where were my hopes and dreams? Where?
I need to throw away the mask and be who I truly am, problem is – I no longer know who I am. I know what I like. I know what I enjoy. I know that there is an extremely limited amount of people who truly know me. I mean, truly know the deep down dark and dirty, light and bright me.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll figure it out. Maybe.
Michael Crawford & Sarah Brightman – Phantom of the Opera (gawd I love this song…)