I Want You To Know Who I am

A man I was talking to on a dating app long ago said “You are always smiling. Is that a mask, or are you actually that happy all the time?”

And I wanted to hang up on him. Because I was giving him my best and he wanted to see behind the mask. Because he had major issues and I barely knew him, but he was right, damnit.

I have a great smile. Lovely eyes. I know these things. Smile, eyes, and hair always get the compliments. They are the human equivalent of curb appeal. They are also my armor, and the external manifestation of the best I hold inside me. Kindness, honesty, a unique and sometimes dark sense of humor, a deep craving to understand the innerworkings of everything. But they mask my impatience – with small talk, with ambiguity, with pretense. I don’t care much for shallow and surface level. For people who are unwilling to explore and understand their own darkness. Most of my closest friends know that once I can trust them, I want to go deep.

Last week, I walked in and let my guard down with someone I care about deeply, and saw the way this person could not take their eyes off me as I let the mask slip off. I revealed the fulness and complexity of who I am, saw them stare at me in shock and sadness and maybe a little bit of fear. I realized it was the first time I didn’t play it cool or keep it light. And if that ruined everything, at least I could walk away with the dignity of having said the true things. For once.

The think about being raised in a household where you never knew where danger was coming from. Where one day things were fun and light, and the next moment there was screaming and smashing and crying and an ambulance being called to take someone away for a 72 hour hold because they gashed their leg open and left a bloody suicide note…the thing about that is your learn to do two things really well.

Mask your needs, imperfections, and fear. Your emotions can be used against you. You cried too loudly when someone had a headache, how inconsiderate. You were being bullied at school and needed your mom to hold you, but she was overwhelmed, so how dare you bother her? When you become the problem for pushing too hard, for needing things from people who don’t have the capacity, you learn to stop voicing your needs. Don’t be the one to be blamed for causing a problem. You learned to stay quiet, deal with things on your own, to act strong and pretend. Everything is fine at school. You still have to take the state exams even if your mom is on a psych hold. You still have to start kindergarten two months after you were sexually abused. You still have to go to work the day after your husband told you he would kill you if you ever take your son away from him.

You learn fast to suck it up. To act as if. As if you’re not terrified and haven’t slept. As if you don’t have needs or wants because needs and wants are a burden to other people. You’re too much and you’re going to scare everyone away. So you put on a smile and earn straight As. You put on a smile and get the promotion that will allow you to afford to file for divorce. You show up professional, polished, easy breezy, all while inside your heart is pounding and your chest is stuck in a vice, and your brain is running overdrive on risk assessments and mitigation plans. And you don’t set or enforce boundaries because boundaries mean you could be abandoned. Boundaries mean you might have to lose someone.

You learn to be what everyone else needs you to be and never ask anyone for too much.

And you learn to read people lightning fast. To observe or interact with a new person for as little as 10 minutes and have an insanely accurate read of who they are. I can sense almost instantly if they are safe, someone who should be watched more carefully, or if they are going to be a problem and need to be avoided. My assessment of the character of others is so accurate that I don’t always believe it. The irony of giving the benefit of the doubt because I have instant pattern recognition but have learned to shut down my own intuition. Because the loop of masking my own feelings and intuition and needs tells me “Yeah, they have that look in their eyes and their smile is fake, but you’re probably just being too hard on them.” Deny my own intuition and placate others.

The contradiction creates a rollercoaster of trusting the wrong people even though I knew who they were when I met them, and then inevitably getting hurt anyway. So it feels like I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It is an exhausting cycle and anyone with complex PTSD knows what that feels like. Deny your true self. Hide your intensity and complexity. Accept everyone so they don’t hurt you. Get hurt anyway.

It means people don’t ever truly get to see the real you because you only show them what you think will keep you safe. And after four decades of denying the real me, the mask came off one day in the dark living room of someone I love who I was afraid of losing and I finally had the courage to let it fall and show up raw. This is me. This is what you get. This is exactly how I feel and exactly what I know and if you run, you run. But at least you had the chance to see me.

And I am exhausted. Tired of betrayal. Tired of halfways and almosts. Tired of things that start great and end bad, either because I ignored the flags or finally let the mask fall off and they decided I am too much. Standing on the pain side of 6 years of failed relationships and wanting to finally take control of the one thing I can control in love and in life – my truth and my voice.

If I’m too much, then what isn’t for me will fall away. The things and people capable of holding that securely will not leave, will not run, will not ghost. They will see someone who is strong, brave, full of love and hope, and will want to come back around for it. Because when we let the mask slip, we find that we do lose people – people who are wrong for us. But we keep all the right ones, the ones brave enough to say “you are an ocean, and I don’t know how to swim, but I will walk on the shore beside you.”

For once. To be known, to be heard, to be seen completely. A mountain of a human with tenderness at her summit. Imperfect, intense, intimidating, terrified, brave.