Once again Ally wrote a very thought provoking post.

What masks do I wear? Do I even wear one anymore? Have they changed over the years? Are they really ‘masks’ or just different levels of openness?

I think when I was younger they were masks. Covers. Barriers.

I had a lot of hurt inside. I was wounded and I didn’t trust anyone. Much the way an injured animal will bite at you if you try to help it. If you get too close.

As an INFJ I already had to deal with being misunderstood by my peers and even adults; family members and teachers who meant well but who just didn’t ‘get me’.

Trying to explain what I was feeling inside, when I myself didn’t fully understand it, seemed like a recipe for disaster.

I didn’t want people to worry, or ask questions. I hurt. I wanted to be left alone.

To be left alone people had to think I was at least content, if not happy, resourceful, independent, capable. So to meet those needs I was warm, positive, and friendly when engaged. I did my homework. I kept myself busy so I wouldn’t be thought of as depressed even though I was.

I didn’t go out of my way to interact with people. But when I had to I put on my ‘best face’ to make the situation smooth and pleasant for everyone.

I didn’t think of it as ‘lying’ when I said I was doing fine. I thought of it as being kind.

They didn’t want to hear what was really going on inside of my head. It was just a social obligation that they were asking how I felt to begin with. Why put myself ‘out there’ only to be left more hurt, rejected, and misunderstood?

I didn’t like the pain I already had, why would I do something to get even more pain?

I guess the distance I kept between others and myself was my emotional security blanket. As long as I had this barrier between them and me the bad things couldn’t hurt me.

I feel I have grown and changed since then, especially with how I view intimate relationships.

I have a better understanding of who I am. I no longer need other people to understand me, because I understand myself (most days). The social acceptance that I felt pressured into achieving doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.

I know what I value, and I know what my morals are, and I need no one else’s affirmation. There is a level of confidence that comes from knowing myself. A level of independence, which frees me from the need for my security blanket. From my masks of old.

I answer that annoying question, “How are you,” honestly. No more white lies.

You asked me a question, I’m going to tell you the truth. Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear. Next time don’t ask me. I’m not going to bend my morals to make you comfortable.

Lying is wrong and I’m not going to do it anymore. Even if it’s about my feelings.

That doesn’t mean I go around gabbing my life story to every stranger.

When people interact with me, I share as much as I feel is appropriate, as much as I think they are seeking and willing to listen to.

Not everyone is interested in the experiences I have had. Not everyone likes the stories of ‘old souls’. Not everyone is looking for wisdom or a connection.

And I’m ok with that.

If you’re not interested in listening, then I’m not interested in sharing. It’s pretty mutual on that front.

That’s sharing though. Not necessarily connecting.

I share my experiences with students, friends, family. I can have conversations with them, and that’s fine. And in some ways that is a type of connection.

But true connection, for me, is where it gets trickier.

The closer you get to the core of my personality the more ‘openness’ is required on my part. The more vulnerable you are asking me to be.

It’s like the scene in Dragon Heart where Draco raises he chest scales are reveals his essence, his heart.

I’m pretty fair in that regard. I’ll be open if you are open. You want a lot from me, I want a lot in return.

Most people aren’t willing to be that vulnerable, and so there are very few people who know me, all of me, including my weaknesses, fears, insecurities. My weak points. My triggers.

The soft spots that can tear me down, killing me as Draco died to become a glittering star in the night sky, becoming sweet, distant memory. A shadow of former greatness.

There are very few people I feel safe enough with to tend to my wounds. Because that’s essentially what I am doing when I open up and share the negative inside my head.

Something has injured me emotionally, spiritually, while I have been fighting on the battlefield of life.

What warrior would take off their armor in the middle of a battle to stitch up a cut? To make sure a bone isn’t broken?

Only one who knew that the people surrounding her would not see her moment of weakness as an opportunity for advancement. Only one who knew that she could count on those around her to keep her safe, to guard her back and defend her, as she would do for them.

There is an unspoken bond of trust in those situations, in those defining moments.

Respect.

Honor.

As the saying goes, “You must give to receive.“

I give as much respect as I am given. I give as much love as I am given. And I give as much of myself as I receive of the other person.

If you want all of me, then you must give all of yourself.

I feel that is fair.