Masquerade

Ahem . . . . Ahem . . . . is this thing on? Uh, yeah, hi, I mean, my name is Katie and uh . . . . . . .
ok this is hard for me to say but I’m just gonna say it . . . . . . . .

Yep . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I’m gonna say it . . . . . . . . .

I'm not who I pretend to be

What? You didn’t hear me? Ok . . . . . .

I'm not who I pretend to be

You still can’t hear me? Fine . . . . .

I’M NOT WHO I PRETEND TO BE

I’m weak; I’m broken; I don’t have it all under control; I’m scared; I doubt; I falter again and again; I’m not perfect; I’m not even close; I struggle; I stumble; and yes I fall.

My name is Katie and I play a good part and I wear lots of masks but when you strip them all away what you find is me; just broken down, beaten up me.

And yes it is so easy to say, “I don’t have it all together” when we’re talking in theory. It is so easy to encourage others when they hint at this vulnerability, this honesty.

But will we say it ourselves? Will we admit it to the world? Can we stand up in front of everyone we are trying so hard to impress and lay ourselves bare and say, “Hey, you, everyone, I don’t have it all figured out, I’m screwed up, REALLY SCREWED UP and it is a struggle every stinking day. It’s not just hard but it is some times so defeating that I’m not sure I can even make it. And I know that I look all shiny and good and in control but that is just an act I put on for you because I think you want to see it, that you need to see it or you will run far away from me, or you will judge me (or better yet I will judge myself) for not living up to this completely ridiculous standard of self-righteousness and self-sufficiency.”

I wrote this the other day out of frustration:

Appearance of strength, of togetherness, of contentment and yet it is all a mask, a vapor of something that isn’t true. Keeping up appearance is so tiring. To not be what you want to be, to not be what you know you should be, it is defeating. To admit that you are broken, that you are pained, that you are needy. Admitting your weakness, admitting your inadequacy, your utter failure at being that which everyone thinks you are.

Scared that they only like what they see, what is easy, what is not true. Can they handle the truth; are they willing to stay through the waves of the storm? The pressure to be what is easy to love, what is likeable, what is attractive. So scared that the realness of you will leave you left alone. So you wear the mask, you play the game, you hide behind the smiles, the laughter, the lie. Because the truth isn’t pretty, the truth isn’t easy. But the truth is real, it is what you go home with at night, it is who you are when you are stripped bare, it is you.

But I feel like I need to be all these things, to be “that” person that I don’t even know, “that” person that is so easy to love, so easy to be around. “That” person isn’t real though, she is a figment of my imagination, a creation of my expectations, the expectations I think others have for me. When did I stop being me and started being “she”? When did I start believing the lie that I wasn’t enough, that I wasn’t worth the time, the effort?

But wait, if I feel this way, if I’m struggling so much to play the part, to wear the mask, how many other people feel the same way? How many of my friends, of those that I say I love, have I driven to play a part, to be something they aren’t because they fear how I will see them?

Oh what have we done? What have I done? When did I start perpetuating the lie, encouraging it in others, silencing their cries, not letting them be who they are?

Are we all living lives of fear and performance? Are we all wearing masks and playing parts?

How did this happen?

Now I’m not saying that we all should walk around wallowing in a “woe is me” mentality. There is joy in life, there is laughter, there is victory, but there is also pain, and struggles, and tears. Life is made up of all of these things. It is a beautiful compilation of all that we are, both the good and the bad. It is real, it is honest, it is life.

The problem is that we’ve all bought into the lie that we’re supposed to be a certain way.
And the ironic thing is that I’m pretty sure we’re all just waiting for someone else to admit they are as lost and broken as we are. We’re frozen in fear that if everyone plays the game and everyone wears the mask then we have to also. It is a desperate cycle of trying so hard to be what everyone else wants when really it is only your perception of what they want.

A friend recently told me “you don’t have to be bullet proof”. Those were hard words to read because I want to be bullet proof, I desperately want to be immune from the reality of life, but I’m not, we’re not. And I’m realizing that every time I choose to put on that mask and I choose to play the part, I am lying, and worse I may be leading other people to take up their masks, to join in this pitiful performance, and that makes me hurt.

I head this song over the weekend and it fit perfectly with what I have been thinking.

Is there anyone that fails
Is there anyone that falls
Am I the only one in church today feelin’ so small

‘Cause when I take a look around
Everybody seems so strong
I know they’ll soon discover
That I don’t belong

So I tuck it all away, like everything’s okay
It I make them all believe it, maybe I’ll believe it too
So with a painted grin, I play the part again
So everyone will see me the way I see them

Are we happy plastic people
Under shiny plastic steeples
With walls around our weakness
And smiles to hid our pain
But if the invitation’s open
To every heart that has been broken
Maybe then we close the curtain on our stained glass masquerade

Is there anyone who’s been there
Are there any hands to raise
Am I the only one who’s traded
In the alter for a stage

The performance is convincing
And we know every line by heart
Only when no one is watching
Can we really fall apart

But would it set me free
If I dared to let you see
The truth behind the person
That you imagine me to be

Would your arms be open
Or would you walk away
Would the love of Jesus
Be enough to make you stay

Stained Glass Masquerade by Casting Crowns


So the microphone is open . . . . . . anybody want to say something?