Taking Off The Mask
Written by Michelle Lauren Anderson on July 31, 2023
“What is your first memory,” they asked.
My new roommates asked in college to better get to know each other as we ate dinner together.
I felt myself clenching up.
They went around the table and responded:
“Coloring,” “Learning to read with my parents,” the responses varied.
As we got close to my turn, I anxiously waited, trying to think of how I would respond... what do I say, the truth? That the first memory that popped into my mind was being burned alive or being bullied in preschool and being called a ‘Monster’ while playing with bricks with a classmate.
I don’t remember what I responded; I only remember how inherently flawed I felt at that moment like I didn’t ‘belong’ or ‘fit in’ and a deep-rooted sense of shame. A shame that I was not like other kids that I had seen and experienced such pain that some people couldn’t even comprehend at such a young age. The shame of what was taken away from me – a sense of safety, love, and belonging.
Masking
At the time of the second memory: being bullied in preschool I had casts on all four limbs and a plastic mask on my face to prevent scar contractors and reduce scarring. As the face mask went on to reduce my scarring, so did my ability to put on a ‘Mask’ and hide my pain.
Hiding behind a mask meant hiding my pain, the severity of my trauma, and repressing my needs to keep the peace and blend into society. But one can only wear a mask for so long.
Taking Off the Mask
If going through severe trauma at a young age taught me anything, it was how to function in severe pain, repress it, and remain calm in adversity.
That was until my trauma resurfaced, and I would have a hard time coping. But see, no one would know this side of me as it was rare. However, the trauma became harder to repress and hide from the world as I got older.
I learned: it was time for me to take off the mask I had put on.
The mask that my burn injury ‘didn’t effect’ me.
The mask that I was okay with was what happened to me.
The mask of being ‘normal.’ The mask that the medical procedures ‘didn’t’ hurt me.
The mask that I didn’t have scars or pain.
The plastic face mask that I wore at such a young age to minimize the scarring of my physical scars also, in time, taught me to minimize my emotional wounds.
And taking off the mask meant admitting to those emotional wounds and no longer minimizing them.
As the mask fell, so did some people in my life, but they needed to be lost. I realize now that the foundation of those relationships was weak from the start and that those who truly saw, heard, and supported me stayed by my side as I showed all parts of the pain I had experienced and stepped into healing those wounds that had been buried for so long.
Photo by Christopher Grey.
I took off the ‘Mask’ and in doing so owned my scars, my story, my life, and my path. Taking off our ‘Mask’ exposes our vulnerability; it requires bravery, and it allows people to see our wounds, scars, and pain for what it is. But it is also the only way to heal our deep-embedded wounds. Taking off the ‘Mask’ allows us to give them the love and attention they need to heal and others to join us on the journey with us.
Will you join me in taking off the ‘Mask’ you wear?
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