Masquerade. Painted faces on parade.
Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you.
– The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Weber
I have sung that to myself at least three times a day, every day, for twenty years. And now…I. Am tired. This thing inside of me is very much a part of me as my name, my past, my philosophies. My mind. I have lived with it too long to take it out of me. Don’t misunderstand me. I will heal, but I can’t hide what I am any longer. It’s too exhausting. I’m too tired to care what my family will think if they find out. *smile* I’m too tired to be scared any more. I’m too tired to hide.
So this is me, ending my masquerade. Taking off my mask and saying, yes! I will talk to you about it. I will not hide it any longer. It is me. It’s what I am and I’m tired of the illusion, the fear, the war. I’m tired of the constant worry that they will hate me. I think…my family loving me is something I can not have. It’s just too much to hope for. They didn’t love me then when I needed them the most. I have no reason to think they would love me now when they see what I really am. Because of what they made me. Is that right? Am I wrong to think that? I’ll need to ask my therapist if that is the right thought to have or not. I can’t tell if that is healthy to think or not. *smile* My perspective has been too distorted too long to determine right from wrong. How messed up is that?
Ethics, morals, right and wrong…these are things we all should have. A moral compass. But a moral compass depends on a healthy perspective. And mine is too messed up to use. So, until I straighten mine out, I have to rely on a professional to determine right and wrong for me. This is truly what therapy is. Isn’t it odd to think of it this way?
I’m off topic. *grin* orange marmalade is in my turkey sandwich.
I am a fantasy writer, cat lover, coffee drinker. I am a gardener, a dancer, composer and singer. I am an anime watching, Iron man loving, sword wielding nerd. I am the Dungeon Master. I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a sister, a daughter, a philosopher. I am an intellect, a theologian, a logician, a linguist. I am a writer. I have PTSD. And I want to help others who have survived trauma…and don’t know it.