A Safe Space to Take Off My Mask

The other day I interviewed a Crazy Like a Fox panelist, who mentioned how we often wear masks, and when she said it shook me to the core, because hell, I was wearing a mask in the interview.

I smiled and acted enthused for the camera, but deep down inside all I really wanted to do was get back to my bottle of wine and cry to myself after I knew my daughter was asleep.

These past few weeks have been a different type of hell, as I have challenged myself to meet every obstacle head on and be responsible. I’m tired. I’m hurting. I’ve lost both trust and faith in people. I am broken in so many ways.  I could probably use a hug, and I definitely would like someone to just talk to. 

Someone who can listen and then advise me with wisdom, or someone who can simply listen without judgment but with care. I would love to say ‘hey, I’m not okay’ without the fear of it later being held against me in the moments when I am ok. I want a safe place to take my mask off and really speak on what’s bothering me without fear of being stereotyped or labeled but rather understood and felt. 

The problem is most don’t know there’s a difference between pity and empathy. According to Neel Burton, MD, empathy is when you not only can feel what another is experiencing but are also able to see the situation from their perspective and understand their plight. Most are too self-absorbed to practice empathy. Instead, they offer pity, which is usually not something no self-respecting individual wants, because Dr. Burton defines pity as “a feeling of discomfort at the distress of one or more sentient beings, and often has paternalistic or condescending overtones.”

And yet daily, I find myself silently wishing that there was just a person or place like this outside of therapy. Daily I go through my circle and wonder who first of all can even grasp what I’m going through because my life is so complex. Secondly, I check off who I can trust. Then I have to look over who has the time to listen. After all of that I usually again question, if I want to bother with risking bearing my soul to someone for them to only think I can’t deal with life.

So I just quietly slip my mask back on. I fake smile and laugh. I share a photo or two if the lighting is right. I attempt to be there for others because I know how badly I wish someone would be there for me. I work around the clock. I go through the motions society expects of me, a strong black woman, while I silently await the times I can be amongst people without my mask.