Saturday night at my male friend’s house. Since lockdown we really wanna have proper Saturdays. Good music, some food and delicious cocktails. Just me and him. Cause I understand him better than anyone, cause he bears me better than anyone. I’m not an easy person and he’s not either. That’s what maybe makes us inseparable.
I haven’t eaten much that Saturday. Cause of course, I’m on a diet. Calorie deficit. However you wanna call it. -Hashtag my good old friends, insecurities. So the alcohol of my old fashioned has really kicked in. I’m starting feeling tipsy. And what do I do when I get tipsy? Of course. I talk. A lot. In general I’m very good at wearing my mask. You know which mask I’m talking about, the mask of pretending. That I am SO happy, that I am SO full of confidence, that I have everything under control. Trust me, people believe me. But this friend? Uh, uh no. He knows when I’m sad, it’s like he can look through my eyes. My bullshit mask isn’t befooling him. He’s way smarter than I am. As much as I love him, he has a quality I really hate about him. He can unravel all my traumas, all my very well hidden secrets. He can make me speak my truth. I honestly don’t know how he does it. But every time he manages to make me say everything I have in my mind. Even the things I would never want him to know about me. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes upon. He’s intelligent, successful and confident. After all he’s a man I always wanted to impress. Every time I spend time with him I try to be my good self. You know, the funny one, the confident one, the full of life one. But I can’t. Cause for now I’m not. That’s just my mask.
Deep conversations are everything to me. I hate the small talk. And that’s why I love talking with this friend. Our conversations are deep. But this Saturday I really lost control. I think at some point my friend stole my mask. Or I dropped it somewhere. So, I started talking. About all the things I so desperately want in my life. About all my needs and unmet expectations. Cause of course that’s all I wanted my very attractive single male friend to know about me. -kill me now.
I guess it was a combination of me feeling tipsy and vulnerable, plus him engaging in the conversation so I kinda said it all. I shared my fears, regrets and scars I accumulated over the years that really hurt right now. I think I even said that my life sometimes feel unbearable. -Note to self: Eat before putting alcohol into your body! Don’t get me wrong I don’t hate my life. I actually quite like it and I’m very proud of the woman I have become over the years. Is just that sometimes I feel so completely stuck, sad or alone that life does feel unbearable.
So I had some drinks and I said truths I wish I never have. I guess that’s the vulnerability Brene Brown talks about. Take off the masks and armours and just be vulnerable. That’s the path to real and true connection. But I’m wearing this mask for so long, I don’t even know who I am without it. I feel so totally naked without it. It feels uncomfortable not wearing it. I don’t know how to do vulnerability. I’m afraid of vulnerability just because I might be perceived as weak. But you know what? I think Brene is right. Being real feels peaceful. It might feel shameful at first but trust me. It’s not. It’s liberating. We cannot lead fake lives. We do not deserve to be in our deathbeds and wishing we had been true to ourselves and to other people around us. Be bold. Be brave. Be yourself. Speaking your truth isn’ t shameful. Leading a fake life is. You are more than enough. Live the life you want to live, not the life you think others expect from you. Be the real you. You deserve joy. You deserve happiness. Get rid of the stupid mask. You are better off without it.
A Better Me. 