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Who are you behind the mask?



A terrifying question for most men.

 

If you are like me, you might have gone your entire life not knowing you were wearing one, and even if you came face to face with the man in the mirror, you’d likely deny his reflection as your own.

 

It’s never been easier to lie and numb ourselves with distractions than take a good hard look at what’s lurking in the basement of our being. The ideals of stewardship, initiation and principles are but distant whispers upon an ancient past.

 

The chain of elderhood was broken long ago, and now boys and men have never been more disassociated from one another. Each generation bears an ocean between it. Neither faction can make out nor comprehend the terrain upon which each generation stands. We are all confused with nothing in common. Where one penned letters, the other sends snapchats.

 

Now the darker sides of men are left untamed, uninitiated and abandoned to the shadows. Without any guiding light or support these repressed parts have taken residence deep within our bodies. Their legacy is fostering generations of chronic stress, anxiety and destructive patterns of behaviour.

 

It’s no surprise that one day in my journey of life I found myself completely fucked.

 

Exhausted. Weary. Bled dry.

 

I pawned my authenticity to avoid revealing who I truly was to the world. I'd spent all my precious energy renting a mask to conceal my shadow, the cost of keeping up appearances had almost bankrupt me. A hollow investment backed by fools gold. Sold to me by an upside down society.

 

Like a shitty payday loan with a ridiculous amount of interest... I was fucked.

 

My mask became decorated with fear and a fake smile. It dictated that I must never go against the grain or speak my truth. I was to be 'mr nice guy' or else relive my childhood judgement and shame for the parts of me that weren't acceptable. Over the years I became great at presenting a happy exterior whilst my insides slowly contorted

 

I was a mess, and I knew it.

 

Minutes turned to lifetimes under my mask. My anger knew no healthy path to expressing itself and instead marched inwards. My repressed rage was a ticking time bomb. My jaw became clenched like the deathgrip on a hand grenade missing it’s pin.


The longer I held on, the worse it got.

The energetic upkeep was ruining me, but letting could go could be fatal.

 I was in a clusterfuck situation, a true disasterpiece.

 

So I kept quiet and held on for just another day.

 

Soon days turned to years and I'd completely forgotten who I was behind the mask.


I was lost.


__________________________________

 

This is my own cautionary tale.

 

If you find yourself in parts of this, please know:

 

You aren’t alone

 

I’m here to let you know there is a place where you can safely remove your mask


A place where you can release your anger and pain without hurting yourself or those you love.

 

A place where warm supportive hands will be placed upon your shoulder.

 

A place where a subtle nod of recognition can undo a lifetime of shame.

 

A place where your fears can turn to faith as you begin to remember your true essence.

 

Find the courage to join me and remove your mask.

 

Maybe, after all this time you can truly begin to love:

 

The man behind the mask.

 

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