Hello Dear Ones!
Interesting that last week Mike and I wrote about “When dreams do NOT come true” in our He says/She Says post. Here’s a direct link to my take on the topic … Marcia Says … Notice I talk about being angry.
The week before, tied in to a Hallowe’en theme, our joint topic was on the masks we wear. Today I’ve had a strong – very strong – inclination to connect the two: anger as a mask.
It’s easier to be angry than it is to be scared. Anger is familiar. It is within my control. I can mumble, grumble, explode, lash out, blame others and the Universe as much as I want.
Fear, on the other hand, leaves me feeling helpless, powerless, lacking in control, weak, vulnerable, even impotent.
Being angry I feel powerful, in control. Being afraid, I feel like a victim.
But the power behind the mask that is anger is still fear: pure and simple. Wearing the mask of bravado covers up my vulnerability. Appearing vulnerable is seen by myself and, from my perspective, by others as a weakness. I don’t like to be seen as less than me at my best. Those in the circle of my life rely on my strength. From my egotistical perspective, they would fall apart if I weren’t the rock and foundation of this family. Those I love dearly have needs and expectations they’ve come to count on. I do not want to lapse into any place less powerful than their needs.
So donning the mask of anger allows me to remain strong in their eyes and in my own.
And yet … though I feel powerful and in control when I wear this mask that is anger, it is all a front – literally and figuratively! My vision is distorted. It is impossible to see with clarity and my peripheral sight is non-existent. Personal features are wooden – there is no variation in facial expressions for others to read. There is no softening of the lines at the eyes and the mouth to present a laughing, caring individual to those near and dear to my heart. There is no flexibility … and the toughness of the exterior face carries down into the heart.
And worst of all, I can’t breathe. The mask covers the nose and disallows oxygen into the lungs … contaminating what air does manage to sneak through the makeshift nasal passages of the mask.
Yet to wear, with open pride, the human emotion of fear is to tell the world that I’m really and truly still a frightened little girl rather than the grown woman I purport to be. I have not let this aspect of my vulnerability show often in my lifetime and hence it is unfamiliar territory – an uncomfortable place to reside – even within my own skin. Not comfortable at all!
Though I still have no answers as to how best to deal with the darker emotions surfacing within me these last few days, I’ve realized that wearing the mask of anger is not the solution.
In Light and with a very good measure of Laughter,
BTW: I’m still encouraging folks to watch “Being in the Vortex” by Esther Hicks … a powerful way to start and end every single day!