Our lives are sometimes held together by masking tape. No, not the kind you buy in the hardware store. This kind of tape is built thread by thread, incident by incident, decision after decision; taped over abandonment, unworthiness, guilt, shame, fear, or any other variety of demon. Given enough time, it is strong enough to hold all our cards in the game of adulthood. Every day we are in this game, playing with our deck held together by that masking tape. Of course, our masking tape is undetectable, even beautiful in an odd sort of way never noticed by others. It comes in many shapes, sizes, colors, and expressions. And, on its surface, it holds any mask you want and sticks you together. Pretty cool don’t ya think?
We can seem invincible in our craft of hiding, stretch after stretch after stretch. But deep down, under the persona of the mask, under the threads we so carefully weave together, lie open wounds that never get enough air and sunlight to breathe. They grow and grow, seeping and festering in the dark, past corners where no one is allowed to go, not even you.
I wonder in a fleeting moment: why doesn’t this ick just go away? But I know, and I can tape a good game. My masking tape is so strong it can hold me together. Words like, “I’ve got this. I’ll keep on going. I just can’t worry about being so tired. This game is exhausting,” swirl like funnel clouds in the demanding murk.
It’s a beautiful day. The air waltzes with the sun on the dance floor of that mask, moving with the utmost grace and tenderness. Feeling? What’s that? Feeling? Why would the mask cry at such an incredible tender feeling? Why is the tape softening? Fear oozes out from behind the mask, grabbing hold of all that darkness.
“Don’t melt my persona!” the mask cries. “I’ve been friends with those demons I hide for a real long time and they don’t want to go!” But the dance continues, reaching for the light of the sky with all the goodness it beholds. The mask cries and melts to the change of the game. A strange little whisper comes in:
“Help me,” it whispers.” Help me”.
