Behind the Mask

I used to fall asleep surrounded by dozens of faces.

For decades, ceramic masks lined the walls of my childhood bedroom. It started with one that my father brought back from a business trip, and I decided that this would be my thing. Coins, stamps, license plates—none of that interested me. I was all in on ceramic masks.

My sister decided she wanted to collect them too (such a little sister thing to do).

Over the years, our collection slowly grew. Some masks were vibrant and whimsical, with exaggerated features and textured accessories. Others were more serene and stoic with downcast eyes that made them look mysterious and sophisticated.

Many of the masks were gifts or vacation souvenirs. Others, we made ourselves at a place in Dallas called Paint n’ Party, obsessing over the colors and designs before adding the decorated plaster to an honored place on my bedroom wall. Each mask felt like its own little character full of personality, with a backstory all its own.

Sometimes, when friends would sleep over, they’d tell me the masks creeped them out. They’d lie on the twin trundle bed, uneasy under the quiet gaze of those ceramic faces. When I brought my now-husband to Dallas to meet my family, he found the masks flat-out weird and disturbing. (Better to find my taste in collectibles weird than my relatives, right?)

But I didn’t feel that way. I found them comforting. It felt like they were watching over me. I felt like they saw me, even the parts I didn’t always show to the rest of the world.

Maybe that’s what drew me in. Even then, I didn’t just like how they looked; I liked what they represented. A mask is a powerful tool that can serve different purposes depending on the context. It can be beautiful and elegant. It can be silly and whimsical. It can be safety and protection. Masks are often part of a performance, something we wear to become someone else or to hide who we really are.

We learn as kids to wear masks. We shrink or contort to match what the world seems to want from us. Complexity is too complicated and makes others uncomfortable, so we learn that we can only be one thing.

The good girl. The rebel. The high achiever. The free spirit. The athlete. The popular one.

We contract. We numb. We hide parts of ourselves that don’t quite fit into those personas.

Since we feel like the most essential thing is to be accepted and belong to a group, taking a mask off the wall to wear out in the world makes it feel more tolerable. If we get our feelings hurt, if we get our hearts broken, if we get rejected, well, it was never really us to begin with.

But, somewhere in all of that trying, pretending, adjusting, we forget what our own unmasked faces looked like. We lose touch with who we were before we started all of that masking.

When it was time to pack up my childhood home a few years ago, I spent a long time in my bedroom. I cried for the little girl, the teenager, and the young woman who had once been drawn to those masks. I grieved for the parts of herself that she felt she needed to hide or protect or shield from the world.

It still amazes me that the girl who once collected dozens of masks now helps others see the power in embracing their whole, authentic selves.

Even though I gave away all of those ceramic masks when my mom sold the house, I notice that it’s still easy for me to slip into those old tropes. I will suddenly feel myself shrinking to fit back into a role or a way of being in the world that I think will make me more palatable. More acceptable. More safe behind a mask.

And then I remember, slowly and bravely, to take it off.

Because there’s something scary, yet sacred about being seen exactly as I am. Not as a persona or as part of a performance.

Just me.

Unmasked.

If you (or someone you know) could benefit from working with a certified coach focused on personal and professional growth and a trained facilitator who will provide customized, holistic, and tireless support as you or your team identify and take action toward your goals, please reach out to One Eleven Leadership to set up a complimentary consultation.