I look into your eyes and see the fear that lies within me and I feel exposed. Bringing my hand to my face, I probe for my mask and secure it in place. I wish for every mirror to be covered but your tears stare at me as if to mock me, to say, "I see you, you can't hide". You're just like me.
The gut whispers, "Is this not desired?" For someone to demolish the walls that have been built ever so carefully yet with toothpicks, threatening to be overturned at any corner. The sea saw of desperately wanting to be known for who we truly are and at the same time, furiously and intricately weaving together a better-looking self, a safer self. One that isn't so intense, that isn't filled with such passionate emotions. One that doesn't let the pain seep too far in. An ideal of strength and control.
Perhaps having succumbed to the lies heard and that continue to be rehearsed within the mind, we allow ourselves to regurgitate, "you are too…", too much of one thing or another and so facing ourself in the mirror, encourage the corners of the mouth to turn upward on a plastic face and enter into the fragility of a dictating existence. A world in which waters aren't stirred, feet don't stumble and the head is held high. No one breaching the walls of heart and soul to discover vulnerability. No one prying open the heart to risk feeling amidst this lurking world posed to attack.
The darkness of night is consumed with tossing and turning, a sweeping tsunami of the day's events fire away and overtake every thought, holding them hostage, evading sleep. No rest for a soul tormented by a raging war between reality and make believe. It stabs. It conjures. It fights to pull away the mask to no avail. It threatens to expose to everyone that the strength portrayed is not the strength that actually exists. That the true self is not enough.
And then the day comes when the mask is ripped from the face and its victim gasps for air as if it hasn't been able to take a breath for a long time. It's an excruciating break as the formerly imprisoned learns how to put one foot forward without its captor dictating his every step. And breathing comes easier as the chest is not constricted to inhibiting the heart to feel…to beat. A tidal wave of every emotion worn bare. It is terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Nothing to stop it now. No pills, no 'liquid courage', no enhancers of the mind to drift away, nor distraction of any self-made, less harmful pain. Nothing. Nothing to constrict feeling life as it is meant to be felt. No longer a dead man walking. No longer suffocating in a sea of make believe. This life. The painful beauty of it all.
People ask "Are you all good?", "Are you alright?". And where we once robotically replied as we thought they wanted to hear, the recognition lies in seeing that it's not always fine or all good and that's okay. And maybe that means that sometimes we will feel as though we are drowning in a tumult of waves. The truth is, however, we are no longer tossed to and fro, we are steadfast and held steady by a Creator who created all of who we are. No longer having to be strong, He does that for us. Nor having to be perfect for He is, in itself, perfection. We must only trust. Trust in the One who calms the waves for our benefit. Who hushes the winds to our advantage. Better still, a trust for the One who holds us up, comforting and strengthening us even as He allows the waves to crash around us, proving that with Him we cannot be shaken.
I am not alone. I know that there are others who have at one time or another wrestled likewise. I am not the fighter in this story. Those reins have been given over. Aware that they didn't need to be picked up from the start, for I have a mighty Father who fights for me. And so I throw my sword to the ground and sprint vigorously into the arms of a Father who offers so much more, that through Him, we are enough. All by removing the mask. Finally stripped bare, there is a needed recognition that being dependent on oneself will inevitably result in destruction. Ironic that what we hold on to with such a vice grip in order to protect ourselves will only kill us in the end. I, myself, recognized as nothing but in and through Him, everything. A head no longer held high in pride, but bowed low in all-consuming gratitude. A carefully crafted mosaic of a life hand-painted by an Artist who makes all things beautiful. A burden once heavy, now made light with an assuring whisper, "Be still and know that I am God".
As I was jotting these thoughts down, I had the following song on replay. I wasn't really listening to the actual words while writing, just enjoying the sound. I finally started listening for the message the composer was trying to portray through this song and found it paralleled my thoughts too perfectly not to share:
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