[DivideByZero]

The outside of me wears many faces, each one dovetails to an emotion that is stored in one of a hundred boxes that are stored in the wasteland inside of me. I am not a real person, instead there is a mask for every social situation. A mask that I spend in some cases years crafting to fit a new group of peers. They keep me safe, they keep me generic and hidden, they keep me relatively functional. But they are not real. There is no depth to any of them, some of them are more shoddy than others, but all of them are shallow. None of them are me.


Some of the faces can operate very very far from the wasteland. Some are masks that I wear when I am close to the surface. The ones that distance me from the work, well I look from the wasteland into the sky and see through the eyes of these faces. These are the bulwark masks, these are the thickest and most complex. They took me through horrors without much emotional pain or memory. They have many layers, some of the layers rudimentary and appear to have been constructed by a child. When these masks are on I can completely close the eyes in the sky and there is only the wasteland. The wasteland stretches out on all sides as far as I can see, the ground is strewn with pieces of my past, they are not connected they are like individual televisions playing in little loops of events each one half submerged in the gray dusty earth. These televisions are connected with braided cables to the mask that was on for the event. Other than these contusions it is barren, and lifeless. The sky is gray, there is no sun, I do not know where the light here is sourced. But there is a light, a sort of silvery persistent dusk. I lay in the center, guarded by the scaled coils of a battle scarred black dragon. I have never seen myself, I feel like I am made from vapor. I feel like I am very very young and defenseless. Under the gray soil is a maze that pushes up into the sky when the bulwark mask fails. This is my last line of defense. When the maze shoots up out of the ground I am lost. When it shoots up the dragon takes to the air and I retreat running as far as I can into this maze. The maze walls are gray, they are smooth and cold. I cannot tell one wall from another. When I run into the maze it is blind panic, I run until I find the darkest spot and I crouch there and make myself as small as I can. After time passes the maze walls sink into the ground and the dragon can be seen, it calls me back to him. Sometimes the dragon has a new scar, other times it is still angry. The dragon speaks with a deep gravel in its voice, most of the time it consoles me and lets me know that it will be with me for all time. I love this caring and protecting beast, but a part of me fears it greatly. Sometimes it is mean, and hurtful and I dont like it. All of these masks and this beast keep me estranged from the world. Push everyone away, keeps me to this place. I am starting to feel so alone.

[WePow]

One of the hardest things to do in life is to let go of the masks when we look at ourselves. Others tell us who they expect us to be. We comply. And with enough time, we forget our original face.

What you are doing is very important to your healing - you are learning how to see the masks. Many people never get that far.

What a sad and beautiful description. I agree with WePow, though. The fact that you can see and describe it so clearly means you will someday be able to change it, with help. I have my own very elaborate system of defenses that I didn't know were there for many years. But I have learned that the fact that I feel lonely is a very good sign. It means the real me wants out from behind it all. Learning to listen to the loneliness is painful, but I believe it is the way out.

[Perna]

That's exactly what my T said I was like when she first met me, a mask. Do you have a therapist? You can get out and become whole. Takes a lot of time and work though.

[Melbadaze]

DBZ, Yes I was familiar with that kind of inner world.

[chaotic13]

I wore a lot of masks too. I got lost playing all those different people. One outcome of therapy has been I now have a better understanding of who I really am or at least I know now when my behavior is consistent with my authentic self. Basically I feel good on the inside when not wearing a mask.

[DivideByZero]

I really really hope that I can integrate if I work hard enough. Thank you for your advice and words of kindness.

[peaches100]

I have talked specifically to my therapist about the part of me that wears a mask. For me, it's job is to give an "I'm fine, nothing can hurt me" appearance and to keep me from feeling any negative emotions.

When you think about the part of you that is a mask, what job/role does it have in your life?

[kitten16]

This really is striking. Interesting images here...Your insight is wonderful.

I just want to say one thing about the masks -- I don't think your masks are completely false. They're strategies you're using (consciously or not), and because they arise from your deepest needs and fears, they really are you.

I can see that your masks have been limiting, but maybe it's not necessary to hate them. You said you've spent years crafting them. I thought of an artisan mask maker when I read that, someone who designs lifelike faces with uncanny concentration and ability and care. There's something amazing about that!

Like the dragon you mentioned, the masks are a part of your self (the shadow self if you want to look at it that way). They may be shallow, as you mentioned, but they cover the wound -- and the wound is what you're trying to penetrate to. Maybe they're markers, and could be valuable for that reason? So you can locate what you'd like to work on, perhaps?

Just my 2 cents!

Originally Posted by DivideByZero

The outside of me wears many faces, each one dovetails to an emotion that is stored in one of a hundred boxes that are stored in the wasteland inside of me. I am not a real person, instead there is a mask for every social situation. A mask that I spend in some cases years crafting to fit a new group of peers. They keep me safe, they keep me generic and hidden, they keep me relatively functional. But they are not real. There is no depth to any of them, some of them are more shoddy than others, but all of them are shallow. None of them are me.


Some of the faces can operate very very far from the wasteland. Some are masks that I wear when I am close to the surface. The ones that distance me from the work, well I look from the wasteland into the sky and see through the eyes of these faces. These are the bulwark masks, these are the thickest and most complex. They took me through horrors without much emotional pain or memory. They have many layers, some of the layers rudimentary and appear to have been constructed by a child. When these masks are on I can completely close the eyes in the sky and there is only the wasteland. The wasteland stretches out on all sides as far as I can see, the ground is strewn with pieces of my past, they are not connected they are like individual televisions playing in little loops of events each one half submerged in the gray dusty earth. These televisions are connected with braided cables to the mask that was on for the event. Other than these contusions it is barren, and lifeless. The sky is gray, there is no sun, I do not know where the light here is sourced. But there is a light, a sort of silvery persistent dusk. I lay in the center, guarded by the scaled coils of a battle scarred black dragon. I have never seen myself, I feel like I am made from vapor. I feel like I am very very young and defenseless. Under the gray soil is a maze that pushes up into the sky when the bulwark mask fails. This is my last line of defense. When the maze shoots up out of the ground I am lost. When it shoots up the dragon takes to the air and I retreat running as far as I can into this maze. The maze walls are gray, they are smooth and cold. I cannot tell one wall from another. When I run into the maze it is blind panic, I run until I find the darkest spot and I crouch there and make myself as small as I can. After time passes the maze walls sink into the ground and the dragon can be seen, it calls me back to him. Sometimes the dragon has a new scar, other times it is still angry. The dragon speaks with a deep gravel in its voice, most of the time it consoles me and lets me know that it will be with me for all time. I love this caring and protecting beast, but a part of me fears it greatly. Sometimes it is mean, and hurtful and I dont like it. All of these masks and this beast keep me estranged from the world. Push everyone away, keeps me to this place. I am starting to feel so alone.