Master of Disguise

Why Not Ditch The Disguise?

My mother had a closet full of masks and disguises, suitable for every possible situation, both public and private; all designed to prevent anyone from seeing who she really was deep down inside. She used her arsenal of tears and anger to further protect the part of herself she clearly believed was never to be shared with anyone. I couldn’t tell you who my mother was, but I could give you dozens of examples of who she wasn’t; all from the repertoire of facades she had for every possible interpersonal interaction. I’m not entirely sure even she knew who that deeply secret self of hers was, but I know she went to her grave keeping that secret safe from the rest of the world.

For my first few decades, I believed, and lived the lessons she’d shared with her actions. I knew for certain I was deeply flawed, and dared not allow anyone to see so much as a crack in the surface she helped me construct. But maintaining all the mortar, spackle, brickwork, greasepaint, and spirit gum is exhausting, and gives you little time to simply enjoy life’s little moments, much less, the big ones. Mid-way through my 40’s with my mother’s ashes long since scattered over the cemetery’s rose garden, I woke up to realize I didn’t have to live that way.

It was OK if others didn’t see things the way I did, or like the way I presented myself to the world. I didn’t need to remain where I wasn’t wanted; where I wasn’t appreciated for my true self, and that included being hidden behind walls and masks of my own making. My mother lived and died a desperately unhappy woman, but that didn’t mean I had to follow in her footsteps.

I Know a Mask When I See One

Living with my mother taught me to recognize others who fear showing their true selves to the world. Many believe they have everyone fooled, but the only one they fool is themselves. Not everyone recognizes the face they show is a mask, but those of us who lived in close proximity to someone who moved seamlessly from one mask to the next, never allowing one to slip without another being affixed firmly in place, know a mask when we see one.

One of the favorite defenses of people like my mom is to insist the observer is mistaken, and can’t trust their own senses. Sadly, I still fall for that occasionally, often because I avoid confrontation, or simply keep the peace where I happen to be at the moment. I should know by now doing so is always doomed to failure. I see what I see. I’m perfectly fine with imperfections, be they mine or someone else’s. What I lack tolerance for is fakeness, no matter how well-intentioned.

I learned from my mom, those who wear the masks and disguises often do so from a mistaken belief their genuine selves are simply not worthy of being shown to the rest of the world. They lock themselves away behind a 24/7, 365 performance believing their honest, genuine, perfectly imperfect self is not good enough. They think pretending to be what is comfortable and safe for the rest of the world is the only right way to navigate their lives. Meanwhile, they’re doing the rest of us a huge disservice.

Trust Your Feelings

I, for one, want to know those messy, imperfect people just the way they are. I don’t need sugar coating, or, in this case, greasepaint, and I’ll give you the messy, unadulterated, authentic version of myself too. The trouble is, so many people I know have been putting on an act for so long, neither they, nor I can tell when, or if they are being genuine, especially when they’ve gone to great lengths to convince me my perceptions are wrong.

Spoiler alert! I’ve been burned by ignoring my own feelings and perceptions far more times than I have by trusting them, so I might give you the benefit of the doubt for a minute or two, but ultimately, I’ll pull my head out from beneath the covers, and either call you on it, or walk away because it’s not worth arguing over.

That isn’t to say we aren’t all a beautiful mosaic crafted from the perils, pitfalls, and successes both grand and minor which make us who we are. There are times when we’ll show smaller cross-sections of ourselves because doing so fits the situation. I’m certainly not going to give complete strangers all 10,000 watts of my true personality, nor will I give up much in a room filled with people whose beliefs run counter to mine such that sharing would be contentious. Like most people, I have a kind of sliding scale which determines how much of my real-ness I can share with those around me.

Find Those You Trust with Your Real Self

Trust is a huge factor, and I’ve been known to misplace mine often enough. It’s made me seem wary, and closed off to some who don’t want or need to see beneath my surface anyway. In that, too, I don’t think I’m much different than most of you. I also know I’m too much for many people, having also learned that lesson the hard way. Not everyone wants or needs to see me in all my messy, complicated glory.

Still, I no longer find it necessary to put up a wall, or don a mask and disguise. I give people what I like to call the “Sheri starter pack”; a small, easy-to-swallow dose which keeps all the partially healed traumas and Kozlowski crazy streak under wraps until I can determine whether or not the intended recipient can, or wants to handle more than the parts which have been vetted for public consumption.

However, if I find myself in the company of people who only want my public face, I’ll eventually find an excuse to remove myself from the situation permanently. While my mother found it perfectly fine to continuously put on a performance, her eldest daughter made the choice to forge her own path rather than trudge through someone else’s footprints.

Grateful for the Experiences

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for the people who come through my life and remind me why I left my mother’s well-worn path.
2. I’m grateful for learning to love myself all the way down into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul, as well as the lighter, easier, breezier parts.
3. I’m grateful for learning to cut my losses and walk away when I find my perceptions questioned. You don’t have to like what I see, but don’t try to tell me I’m mistaken just because I saw something you didn’t want me to.
4. I’m grateful for the never-ending stream of material my life is giving me to fuel my writing.
5. I’m grateful for switching up my meditation so I’m more clear-headed at night for writing.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.

Mis-Reading the Room

Mis-Reading the Room as an Art Form

My expertise lies, not in reading the room accurately, but in mis-reading it…and acting discordingly. I have a particular knack for trusting the wrong people, and invariably, pissing off the popular kids, the ones in power, and the charismatic ones everyone follows without question. The trouble is, I see through the masks and glamours, and believe everyone else does…much to my ultimate downfall.

Many’s the time I’ve either had to eat crow, or leave the scene of my most recent alleged crime. Just as I’m one of the rare few who dreams in color, and remembers many of my dreams, I’m also one of the few to notice the naked Emperor; the man behind the curtain; the desperate need for attention behind the charismatic smile. I’m still learning to accept what I recognize as fake, others are drawn to like flies, and nothing I can say or do is going to clear the clouds from their eyes. In fact, trying to do so only makes me look bad in the long run.

The funny thing is, I’m not the loner some believe me to be. I’m simply attracted to honesty; to authenticity; to people who own their broken parts as well as their strengths; who know they’ll always be works in progress, and accept the challenge. Those folks are surprisingly hard to find because fitting in has been drummed into our heads since the cradle. But if you’re honest with yourself, what has fitting in every really given you that’s truly worth having?

• Fitting in means stifling your own wants, needs, and desires.
• Fitting in means behaving the way you think someone else wants you to.
• Fitting in means being untrue to yourself.

Why Try to Hard to Fit In?

As Dr. Seuss so wisely said: “Why fit in when you were meant to stand out?” What he didn’t mention was, standing out can be a lonely proposition in a world where everyone else is trying to fit in. Seeing through everyone else’s facades doesn’t make you a welcome party guest. Those walls and masks are in place for a reason. People are afraid to be themselves as it might mean not fitting in.

I’ve never been comfortable trying to fit in where I didn’t belong, though heaven knows I’ve made the mistake of trying too often. Deep down, as I notice a mask slipping here or there, and believe there might be a sympathetic soul, I’ve been slapped down, not only for noticing, but for believing it was safe to slip behind that mask and share my observations.

Sadly, some of the most broken, empty souls I’ve encountered are the ones who’ve perfected their act so well, everyone loves the face they show the world, but no one loves who they really are, because they never let it show. Yet they’ve convinced themselves it doesn’t matter as long as everyone loves them. Admittedly, though it wouldn’t be enough for me, maybe it truly is enough for them. I can’t walk in their shoes, so I have no way of knowing, and by the time I start forming a picture of the face behind the mask, I’m already walking out the door, either voluntarily, or by a horde of angry followers, my own reputation in tatters once again.

Hope Springs Eternal

For some reason, I continue searching for my tribe; my people; the ones who aren’t putting on an act; who are comfortable in their imperfect skin. I know they’re out there, but I also know they’ve been burned as many times as I have…maybe more. Many finally learned to be cautious, and trust extremely slowly; a lesson I’m still working on.

I’ll continue to work on my reading skills, but it’ll have to be from a safe distance right now, with my shields up to maximum; maybe even “stun”. I need time and space to heal the wounds received in my latest skirmish, and to re-establish trust in my own feelings. One of the lessons I take away from this round is to trust my feelings even if I have no evidence; even if I don’t understand why the atmosphere has changed. The truth may or may not come to light, but my feelings are never wrong, despite the efforts others may make to have me mistrust them.

I may not be able to accurately read a room, but by now, I’ve been shown over and over my feelings are the most accurate tool I have.

Grateful Even for the Painful Lessons

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for lessons that remind me to trust my feelings.
2. I’m grateful for lessons that remind me to trust people a lot more cautiously.
3. I’m grateful for refusing to stop searching for more people who will earn my long-term trust. I know they’re out there somewhere.
4. I’m grateful for the few I know I can trust, even with some of my crappiest moments.
5. I’m grateful for more time to spend writing, reading, and cuddling with my cats.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful and help entrepreneurs touch the souls of their readers and clients so they can increase their impact and their income.