Masks of Myself
While we are speaking of our Selves this week, I was over at Fumbling for Words reading Heather’s post about defining yourself, which reminded me just how lucky I am.
You see, there might be a lot of things I wish I had and a lot of things I wish I could do; I may feel like there are credentials or experiences that I regret not having under my belt (yet), but there is one thing that I know I am unique in.
I know who I am!
I’ve long since given up being who other people want me to be, and I don’t particularly care if you like who I am. (Because, frankly, I just can’t afford to care.) I’ve taken the last few years to delve deeper and deeper into my Self and I know exactly who I am. I know my strengths; I know what makes me great and what I’m great at. And I know my weaknesses; I’ll readily tell you if I can’t do something or need help in an area. I know, not only, who I am, but also who (or maybe how) I want to be in the world. I am unfailingly faithful and selfish when it comes to being true to myself.
Which is why it’s so odd that I should be writing a post like this. Because, you see, that even though I know myself so well, the truth is that most the people in my life (that is, my real world circle) don’t. There are very few people (with the exception of Wakizashi who knows me completely) with whom I reveal my whole self.
It’s not that I lie to these people; it would be more accurate to say that I filter myself when I am with them. I imagine that they think they know me, but the Me they know is a mask of myself. They don’t know that I read books about Goddesses and the Moon; they don’t know I have a collection of Tarot cards, or that I take classes on Metaphysics and Paganism. Some of them don’t know about Limitless Living and most of them know it’s here, but don’t know about my blog.
I imagine that, to them, I am much the same person that I was three, or even six, years ago. And, I’m not really sure if that is more their fault or mine.
Much of our family (and some of our close friends) are strictly Christian and I know they’d be offended by (or even terrified of) some of the things I’m interested in and thinking about. The last thing I want to do is offend someone I love (never mind be subject to the, “OMG she’s going to HELL!” looks). And, while I know myself relatively well, there are still parts of me that are delicate and still forming, so I feel the need to guard and protect them a little more carefully.
But, I don’t believe that all of who I am is hidden under these categories. I wonder how much of who I am they simply assume. How much of who they think I am is a result of who they choose to see – and do they really think that I’m that much like the 20 year old me?
And honestly, how often do we have real and true conversations (even those we love the most)? When you ask me how it’s going, or even better, “What’s new” do you really want me to tell you the theories I’ve been forming about how I define the Limitless Divine (aka God), my newfound revelation about patriarchy, or my love of the moon and joy at rediscovering my femininity. Do you really want to hear about how, more and more, I’m finding myself drawn to elements of paganism because a life of magic and Goddess makes my heart and soul sing like nothing else ever has?
Today I had coffee with my closest friend and we talked about how her intuition tried to warn her of her husband’s affair, how proud she is of me for being so passionate about my new found feminism, and about normal things like kids and money and husbands too. I feel like, with her, I am a flower; a blossom that opens depths upon depths as we delve into talk. Likewise, I see the beauty of her mind, her heart, and her soul, as she opens herself more and more before me. I love her more each time we get together like this, and I feel safe and loved in her presence.
It’s this revelation I wish I could have with everyone in my life. And sometimes I wonder that I can love someone so much, and yet not feel safe in their presence. But, I know I must be just as guilty, because I don’t truly know these people any more than they know me. And I have to wonder…. am I just staring at masks of their selves too?
More and more this has been on my mind lately and it seems that I’m less and less comfortable hiding behind these distortions of who I am and have been. Now the challenge comes: am I willing to be true to myself, and my desire for real intimacy, and pull down those masks once and for all? (And, is that the best solution in all these cases?) I don’t have all the answers yet, but this post is surely the beginning of taking off the masks. (I’ll let you know if the crap hits the fan, or, God-willing, if something more beautiful blossoms from it.)
Over to You:
Do you know who you are? Do the people you love? Do they really? Do you have relationships with true intimacy in them? Are they people you feel safe and protected with?
Better yet, I’d love to discuss the wide-spread issue of non-intamacy in our culture and what we can do to change it in our own little worlds…
Seems I’m not alone this this week as Kristen at Motherese posted on the same wavelength yesterday…
3 comments
Megan,
We do all wear masks, or at least show different sides of ourselves to different people. I’m not sure I know the real me. I think I’m still discovering.
In some ways I look at revealing my inner self like revealing my outer self. If I’m walking around naked, aside from being cold, I’m not looking my best. Which is to say, I have some physical flaws that are not apparent when I’m wearing clothes.
In some ways I feel it’s not anyone’s business what I look like under my clothes. But I also think it’s for other people’s benefit as well. Most people wouldn’t want to see me with my clothes off. It makes them uncomfortable even if it’s comfortable for me.
It also matters what kind of clothes I wear. At work I wear the prescribed work uniform because that’s what people expect and it communicates my professionalism. At home I relax in jeans or cargo shorts and when I go out I wear clothes that say, I’m here to party.
Each one of these outfits is still the real me, just a different side of me. If I were to wear the wrong my party clothes to work or my work clothes for an evening out it would send a very different message. So I reveal, show, dress in a way that is appropriate for the people I’m interacting with.
So I want to be honest and open but I also want to do what is comfortable for everyone.
S.
Thank you, Megan, for sharing these thoughts with us.
I was particularly taken with your metaphor of the flower in bloom and I thought about how the flower image applies to me and my own relationship to identity and self. Right now I feel like my petals are still opening – the outer ones are the most obvious, most visible parts of my identity. But there are still many layers of petals still emerging, hiding not only from others, but still from me. I don’t think I am yet at the place you are, to be able to confidently state that I know who I am.
Through some of the comments on my own post yesterday, I realized the extent to which blogging has helped me explore those deeper layers of petals and the ways in which my blogging audience – alongside my husband, who is also my best friend – sees the most layers of me.
I *rarely* register for anyone’s site… but you mentioned something that’s too important to pass up: People will not see who you are. They only see who they think you are.
The result is that *your* bad emotional responses re-emerge when associated with such people. I avoid them now.
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