Masks We Wear

I am a great fan of my daughter when it comes to writing. At a young age of eleven she has already been a champion writer.  For about three years now, she has grown to be a prolific writer.

Realizing that JD has a way with words, I got into the habit of lurking into her works. She may not know it, but, I always browse at every piece of paper she scribbles on.  I would lavish at her ideas much to the delight of her choice of words and explicit exposes. It is also in this way that I get to know her thoughts. I know that deep within that child in her is an adult’s mind.

The summer of 2014, I happen to read what she wrote.  Glad again to immerse in her flood of words and emotions but I was greatly saddened by her reactions at what transpired in the past. I did not know that she was able to absorb the angst I was into at that time.  Only a few people know that I was in one of my hardest and lowest times of my life.

I was wearing the mask of a happy, contented wife. Behind that happy face was a woman crumbling into pieces.  I felt like I was in a dungeon of despair to the point of harming myself.  I had that feeling of seclusion and I wanted myself shut from other people. I collapse at many instances, at times, rushed to the hospital. I had no one to run to. I kept everything from my parents whom I wanted to be spared from the predicament I am into.

For a time I hesitated to approach my family because I felt betrayed at some point. I kept my ordeal from my friends. So much so that I ran farthest from my husband who became my bitter enemy at that time. I sought consolation from my sister and brothers who assured me that they will stand by me.  My Silent Friend Up There is always at my side, making me feel He supports me. And for the most part, the greatest force behind me was my daughter.  I need to live for my daughter, my greatest gift.

I was at the ebb of sanity.  My faith in God and my love for my daughter pulled me through.

In front of many, I appeared unshaken; I tried to hide the misery I was in.  It was an ordeal trying to smile at everybody though my heart was bleeding and my mind was in shambles.

The agony of a struggle to maintain a healthy marital and societal relationship and an active professional life left scars and recurring pains. Episodes of financial losses added into my strings of tribulations.  Perhaps God has installed a natural shock absorber in me and a memory that only stores good and happy experiences, thus, I am prone to easily forget the desolation and deprivation I have gone through.

Unguarded from another stroke of misfortune hit me when my husband got sick of colon cancer. Questioning God was my first reaction upon reading the lab results of my husband. I cried a river but I struggled to get a grip of myself in front of a husband who is terminally ill. It was so hard holding back my tears or keeping my lips tight from uttering words that can hurt an already shattered heart when facing my husband. Equally hard was counting the days and praying to dear God to lengthen the remaining days if not to heal my husband.  If only I could hold back the time, I would pull back the hands of time.

Again, I wore the mask of a strong woman who promised her husband to stay formidable in his absence to hurdle life as a single parent.

To have cried a liter of tears is quite a cliché for until now I cry a river at the thought that there is nothing I can do to bring back the life of a man whom I thought I can depend on for the rest of my married life and together raise a daughter whom we waited for seventeen long years; nobody to share my joys, my doubts, my dreams.

A mix of fear and confusion beset me during my moments of loneliness.  A lot of “what if’s” haunt me.  I am not worried for myself; I am worried for my daughter who has a long way to go. I pity her for not enjoying long years with her father whom she cherishes more than me.

As years pass, I came to a realization that we wear masks all throughout our lives. Why is this so? Perhaps the most relevant answer is man’s innate defense to live a decent and civilized life. For the most part, being a Filipino, keeping and holding up something miserable, shameful or dreadful is done to maintain peace and harmony especially among and between family members. It is deemed as a way of protecting persons or institutions from damage or jeopardy.

Is wearing a mask a sign of cowardice? In life, we wear masks to hide and not to escape from our predicament.  It is just our momentary excuse to conceal the fear, the pain, the malady that we’re into.  It is our way of gathering strength to face life’s challenges because as soon as we have enough courage and resources we unmask ourselves and expose our bare faces to reality.

Hba 1/21/2015