The world, as you have noticed, has a certain expectation of normalcy. We’re supposed to be relatively functional, emotionally stable, and generally “okay.” I aspire to these lofty ideals. But, the reality often differs significantly from the carefully curated image I show to the outside world. This requires a significant amount of energy, the constant maintenance of a mask that often feels heavy and ill-fitting.

Putting on the “okay” mask is a daily ritual. It involves suppressing the anxious hum. I try to quiet the inner critic, at least outwardly. I also project an air of competence and composure that often feels entirely fraudulent. It’s about smiling when I’d rather scowl. I nod agreeably when my brain is screaming in protest. I offer polite small talk when I’d much prefer to retreat into the comforting silence of my own thoughts.

This performance is exhausting. It requires a constant monitoring of my facial expressions, my tone of voice, my body language. Every interaction becomes a carefully choreographed dance. I must make sure that I don’t reveal the messy, chaotic reality that lies beneath the surface. It’s like being an actor in a play. I haven’t quite learned my lines. I’m constantly improvising and hoping I don’t give the game away.

The energy expended on maintaining this facade is used for many other things. It will fuel actual productivity. It will foster genuine connection or maybe even offer a moment of genuine relaxation. But the fear of vulnerability keeps the mask firmly in place. It’s the anxiety of being truly seen for who I am (flaws and all). It’s a protective barrier. It shields me from potential judgment or discomfort. Yet, it also creates a distance and prevents true intimacy and understanding.

There are moments, fleeting and precious, when the mask slips. When I’m with someone I truly trust, someone who sees beyond the carefully constructed exterior. In those moments, there’s a profound sense of relief, the ability to finally exhale and just be. But these moments are rare. The mask usually returns. It serves as a familiar and necessary shield in a world often ill-equipped to handle the unvarnished truth.