Mask Away

 ‘I’m fine. I’d been saying that for so long that it was a subconscious impulse. I got this. I not only said it to everyone around me, but to myself. Did I actually believe it? And how often had it been true? I’m fine was a mask I had become so comfortable wearing that I'd long forgotten I was still hiding behind it. And that’s what I was doing. Hiding. Hiding the parts of me that were weak, and vulnerable, driven by a potent cocktail of fear and shame.’ 

Claire Nelson, Things I Learned from Falling

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I’m fine. I am okay. Countless times I’ve said those words without really wanting to put the mask away. I was not fine, I was not okay but I thought the pressure was less if I hid the truth away. But what was the truth? The truth was I could no longer carry on, I could no longer vividly and genuinely smile a true, big smile without feeling that it was tinted with sadness and anguish, overwhelment and hopelessness. But people could not see because that was not me, surely. I was always optimistic, I loved smiling, I loved life and love and yet I increasingly felt this pang of anxiety, and sadness, and overall darkness. I felt like my lungs were getting smaller and it was harder to breathe without hurting. How could this be? How could I've reached this point of helplessness and utter exhaustion? My soul was screaming at me and I could no longer hide what I knew to be true: I wanted, I needed to change my life otherwise my world would only get darker and darker. I had experienced anxiety and panic attacks in the past but it only seemed to be getting worse with each added pressure, with each seemingly harmless day, with each smile that cried for help. But I could not ask for help, I hardly ever did because I’d been independent for so long and, of course, I never wanted to inconvenience anyone. I’d moved from my home country almost a decade ago and, though always gratefully accepted help that was offered, I never really wanted to ask for it; I’d always been a perfectionist and learned to be self-reliant when I left Argentina so surely I could deal with things by myself. Worth noting, I had not been like that as a child and teenager. Growing up in a household of six -and many loving pets-, there was always someone there to help me with anything and everything and, though I learnt some things as I was curious, it was comforting to let people help me, to rejoice in that helping hand. I guess that leaving my roots behind, stripped me of any sense of healthy dependence and the miles between continents gave me a proud independence. 

I’m fine. I am okay. The mask had to fall one day but not just yet. 

Countless things had happened and I had to learn. I could not show weakness, I did not want to inconvenience people or make them feel uncomfortable; in hindsight, I realise that maybe that was because I wasn’t comfortable with my own emotions or didn’t know how to process them. Hiding was easier. Not sharing was less painful- or so I thought. As Januaries went on, I learnt how to cope with those scary emotions on my own. I did have good friends and family and of course I wasn’t completely unemotional but was careful with what I shared and how; journaling, therapy and nature -oh, my haven- all helped but it always felt like I had to control, to carefully reduce the magnitude of certain things I went through. I felt lonely countless times and not for lack of people who loved me but because of my fear of being vulnerable. All of this I learnt in time. Slow ticking time. Cliche as it may sound, I do not regret experiencing that time of my life as such for I learnt profound things about myself. I learnt how intrinsically complex I am and the exquisite shades of my mind. I learnt more deeply about the beautiful healing power nature has on me and how nature would always listen to the sound of my tears rolling down without judgement but, equally, how it would rejoice in the sight of my smile, that smile that exuded trust in life, in the universe, and in the grounding breath that helped me carry forward amidst the crumbling and vanishing shooting stars. I learnt to embrace new worlds that nourished me in mind, body and soul and was so deeply grateful because I started to learn more and more not only about my own humanity but also about the ancient pains and fears that plagued my soul; I learnt about that red thread that connects us all is past, present and future, that mesmerising fabric magically weaving lessons and faces. 

Life happened and many times I learnt. Far from easy at points but I opened up and let people help me because there is nothing more damaging than shutting down. I’ve done it. I’ve retrieved to my innermost corners and kept people at arms’ length. I know I hurt myself and them at points and, though I do not regret it because otherwise I wouldn’t have the understanding I have now, I can still acknowledge how shutting down and retrieving serves no one. 

The crumbling. The shame. The acceptance. The lessons. It is okay to ask for help. It is okay not to be okay. It is okay to take time to heal and to learn. That is why we are here: to experience life, to grow, to help one another, to love. 

Quite a few weeks ago, the massive yarn of anguish, pressure and overwhelment I’d been carrying for a very eternal pulse, started to unravel and burn at the tips, quickly consuming the fabric of my life. I no longer knew myself and, after painfully disconcerting days, I imploded. ‘I can no longer do this’ resonated inside my mind on repeat but, eventually, that phrase reached my lips and people’s ears. I could no longer do this. I’d burned and my soul was sobbing ashes. How did I get here? How did I get to this point? Something I’d ask myself for days to come after that Thursday when I gave control up. I paused. I stopped. I asked for help. I wholeheartedly gave in to people’s love, kindness and light. The words thank you became small to me because they could not encompass how grateful I felt but I kept repeating them with every beating of my grateful heart. Darkness was fought with light; day in, day out, after every ticking strike. 

I’d always been grateful but I started embracing gratitude even more. Of course that in those dark dips and wobbles where I’d be standing on the edge of entrapment, fantasising with vanishing and drifting away, darkness would be alluringly tempting but I never crossed the line because I deeply trusted in the light; most importantly, he -together with the souls gone before and after his time- was always there to remind me that life is precious. Gratitude for my breath, for nature, for them. Gratitude and love for every blessing as well as challenges and obstacles for they have helped me grow and, more beautifully, bloom because I am following my truth, my desires, my joy; the breadcrumbs of light and love that I’ve been embracing -knowingly or unknowingly- since the beginning of my time, in this life. I’ve gained clarity and become more determined to follow what brings me joy, peace and love. I’ve become less afraid of asking for help and more comfortable with receiving. Blessed beyond measure, I know. 

Grateful for my grounding breath and the love inside and all around me. 

Grateful for the healing journey and for my willingness to choose again.

Grateful for throwing the mask away.