Living beyond the walls of a masquerade ball

Jaw clenched. Shoulders raised. Slumped over. Shallow breathing.

That’s how I’ve spent the past several years. More than several to be honest. As I’ve spent my life people pleasing, desperate to be liked, and doing anything to avoid confrontation. I’d smile my way through every day, fooling everyone including myself.

My life was like living in a masquerade ball. I wore a mask pretty much everywhere I went. And I didn’t even realise I was doing it.

I’ve since discovered each trauma you experience, adds bricks to the wall that surrounds your being. To the point you are so boxed in, you have to make yourself small enough to fit into the uncertain and unfriendly world you have become accustomed to. You become hunched over, hiding from a past life, confidence nowhere in sight.

A significant incident at the age of 19 would have done the trick, in making me want to hide myself away from the world. Add becoming a Mum into that, where all remaining energy is poured into nurturing someone else’s confidence, I was left running on fumes. Then just to exhaust my engine, I quit my job 7 months ago (which I now know is one of the best decisions of my life). But at the time, as I resigned on the spot, I didn’t consider how it’d sweep away the last shreds of independence, identity and confidence that were powering, what was left of the self-worth I held for myself.

Following the resignation, feeling more lost than I had ever been, there shone a glimmer of freedom before me, as I embarked on a journey of compassion. Allowing myself to heal, and acknowledge why I didn’t know who I was anymore.

What stands out as so prominent in the month leading up to my almighty break down, where the mask I held so firmly slipped away, is that I had decided to stop asking people at work (on video calls), how they were. Most people didn’t bother that I worked with. They just jumped straight into business. No time for niceties. And the other handful who did take the time, weren’t waiting for a genuine response. They’d ask the fake ‘How are you?, knowing they’d hear the fake ‘I’m fine’, ready to move on efficiently, like a robotic machine.

So I just stopped asking everyone how they were. I was fed up of being one of the few one’s that seemed to care. I was fed up of hearing the fake response.

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Life felt like a masquerade ball, and I was ready to drop my mask.

And in doing so, I’ve let go of the past, as much as I can. I’ve pulled away brick after brick in the giant wall that surrounded me. I’ve began to discover me, the girl that got lost in the rubble. I’ve discovered what clothes I feel comfortable in. Not what others expect to see me in, or what friends are wearing. I’ve discovered music that I like. I’m learning what makes me tick, and what doesn’t. I’ve started adding joy to my day. I’ve set boundaries more easily, with friends, family, my children and myself.

Confidence has grown along the way, but it’s still lacking a lot. My body still tenses up in most social situations. Which is frustrating, because I feel I should have more confidence than I do, by now. But as I write this, I sigh gently, as I acknowledge my brain is ahead of my body. My brain has figured out the journey that I’m on, and who I can be, as I embark on a new chapter as the real me. While my body is still living a previous story. Worried of judgement. Worried of saying the wrong thing. Worried about not thinking of anything to say at all.

And rather than continuing to let my body remain uncertain and small, I’m instead teaching it to stand up tall. With shoulders back and chest out.

It feels really uncomfortable right now. Because I’m now swanning around the masquerade ball with no mask, and asking my body to be ok with it. A body that’s learnt to make itself so very small, curled up behind the giant wall.

But as I show my body that I’m safe to be me, with no apologies, I’ve no doubt it will begin to stand straighter and stronger on its own, as the remaining bricks of the masquerade wall come crashing down. X