The Masks We Wear

I am sick. You may not be able to readily see it by looking at me. You may see me walking down the street, and to you, I look “normal.” From your subjective standpoint, I may look just like everyone else. But what you see is a mask.

Who I am…

I’m white, male, straight (but comfortable with my sexuality), in my early 40’s. As such, I am the epitome of the majority of characters you might see in Hollywood movies. My family has four kids, a nice home in a safe neighborhood, and depending on who you ask I’m relatively attractive. I’m intelligent, sufficiently educated, charming, and I have a great sense of humour (though that last point is decidedly up to debate). If I take a step back looking at my life from the outside I am almost exactly the type of person now, that I wanted to grow up to be when I was an awkward teenager living on Vancouver Island in the mid 1990’s.

My Masks…

The mask I wear on the outside exudes confidence. But under that mask, hidden from the world is a different part of me that only those closest get to see in person. The person I see when I look in a mirror is often riddled with shame and insecurities. While you see someone who may be affluent, well-read, and cultured, I see someone who is unworthy, devastatingly anxious, and completely out of touch. Every day I second guess myself. I second guess my aptitude, my feelings, my judgment, and my intelligence. If I achieve less than an “A” in a school assignment or test I’m shaken to my core, and it affects me for days.

My Truth…

So, what bothers me? Since I was in my late teens I have struggled, on and off, with anxiety and depression. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that it’s not as bad now as it used to be. For a long period of time my afflictions, my illnesses were so under control that I went unmedicated. Through a combination of self-reflection, positive relationships, and hard work, I was able to be ‘okay’ for a long while. The irrational fears that plagued me in the past had less a hold over me. Sometimes, I admit, I’d burst into tears at night before bed. I’d feel sad, embarrassed, self-conscious. Those moments would quickly pass, though, and I’d be good again.

These last few years have been harder. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not ‘okay’ now. My personal, professional, and educational life contains strong levels of stress. With that stress comes some depression, and a whole host of anxiety. What I am going through is no harder than anyone else. I’ll be the first to admit that. In those moments though, when the demons seem to be attacking me with all their strength, it can be harder to lower the mask and acknowledge that my world is scary.

My Remedy…

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this blog. Maybe that’s why I want the world to know. Sometimes the best way to get over your fears is to put them out in the open. Fears take power from the shadows. They are the strongest when you don’t share them with anyone. I am a strong and ardent supporter of Sick Not Weak and Michael Landsberg on Twitter because the messages that they share are important, impactful, and life-saving. I AM sick. I AM NOT weak. Regardless of what my demons tell me under this mask, I WILL be better than ‘okay’. I will be unstoppable.

UPDATE: THis blog has been updated and edited for clarity. Also, when I was originally typing it I had linked to @sicknotweak and @heylandsberg on twitter, but the links didn’t carry over after publishing. They work now.
-AJ