Masks

You know, those faces we put on to cover up things we don’t want others to see. Everybody has one or two whether it’s realized or not. Personally, I know for certain I have many and wear them accordingly.

Always, always have one on with my female parent. Even at the age of 52, she still thinks I should do everything she says, sit at home, twiddle my thumbs, be safe because there are ‘such’ mean people in this world and/or/in addition to going shopping with her, which I despise. Needless to say, the mask fell off a few months ago, I let her have it and we haven’t spoken since. I was adopted and have two mama’s in this world but neither of them ended up giving a flip about knowing the real person behind the mask. So be it.

Then there’s the mask when I’m around people whose goal is to make me nervous. I can attribute that one to the last three years, a death, and probate. I want, I want, I want, I want you to do this and have it done by tomorrow. Ya think? Ain’t gonna happen, buddy! Now? Ain’t my problem. You want something, talk with the owner and see how far you get there. Regardless, I’m going to smile and laugh, hug your neck as you resist, tell you I love you and watch you squirm as you refuse to return the gestures. Masks… yep, right there and handy, specially made to piss you all off.

How are you? Fine as wine! Everything good with you? Couldn’t be better. How do you feel? Like a million bucks. Ha! That one’s called the lying mask and it’s always in use. I learned the hard way that talking it out doesn’t matter because not many, if any, care. So I lie every single day and will burn in Hell for all these lies. At least the other masks were real, but the lying? I learned. So how am I today? Couldn’t be any better on this beautiful, fall day and one day, I’ll be living in a right to die state.

Then there’s the spastic me, the one who’s emotional (not crying, just talking with my hands and mouth as fast as I can). Usually, a situation will bring this on. This is NOT a mask, this is the real thing – and I found out this week that I kinda like the spastic part of the scenario. You see, something happened this week that didn’t make me spastic – at all (but it should have); however, it ended up scaring the hell out of me. I became calm. Too calm. Easygoing calm. A very disturbing calm. Scared to death of me calm.

A mentally disturbed female and her equally mentally disturbed husband (who we know personally) made an attempt to remove (kidnap) our sweet Baby Girl from her daycare. I received information from my female kiddo about some harassment at work and told her I’d be right there. No, I did not know about the attempt until later. Of course, the cops had already been called and they were already there. Ms Boss had picked up Baby Girl and brought her to kiddo’s work, safe and sound. Through the relay of events to LEO, that’s where I learned of the attempted kidnapping.

I went cold, hot, then cold again. During that same time, I settled into a calmness like I’ve never felt before. Just that quick. I looked at Baby Girl with my calm eyes and realized I was in a protection mode like I had never been with my own child, not that I hadn’t been in mommy mode more than a few times in his lifetime. Mah’Nana mode and calm is a totally different ballgame. It scared me then and it scares me now. I’m still calm and there’s no mask for that.

After the past few days of this immediately in the forefront (thank God the daycare was right on top of it and never let her out of her classroom), I have no intention of wearing those masks again. I’m gonna tell it like it is, being totally honest when I tell each of them what sorry people they are.

Also going to have the first opportunity….. at church on Sunday. Bet they’re going to wish I wasn’t invited.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Masks

  1. Wow that’s deep.. But so true! I will Jane to re read this again then think about my masks.. Thanks for your honesty!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s