Recovering mask artist

The first wave of harsh reality hit on the plane, before my feet ever touched African soil. It was a simple question that shouldn't have taken me by surprise, but somehow it managed to reach its fingers into my brain and flip the switch that turns on my never-ending overthinking.

 

"So, are you guys planning on staying 6 months or the whole year?"

 

To explain, we have to go back several months, when I got a call from the director of the internship informing me that the program had been shortened to 6 months, ending in August, with an opportunity to possibly stay till December. In my mind, there wasn't even a question. I just figured I would stay the whole year; no one would even have to find out that the program was shortened. After all that happened with the other internship I had planned on attending, I didn't even want to go through the trouble of explaining the change to all my friends and family. It was need-to-know information.

 

It never even crossed my mind that others would have a different plan.

 

I have never been so wrong in my life. It didn't take long for me to find out that others didn't quite have the same "I'm moving to Africa for a year but don't expect to ever see me again" mindset that I had. After landing in Joburg and arriving at the intern cottages, I found out that one of those people who didn’t intend on staying until December was my roommate. And up went the walls in my heart.

 

I won't say I became a sullen hermit who does nothing but grunt at people and hides away in a corner to sulk. But there's an art to being "vulnerable" while still hiding away the deepest parts of yourself. There's an art to looking happy and satisfied when you're really struggling. And there's an art to keeping your distance without being obvious. Unfortunately, if there's an art to wearing a mask, I have become a skilled artist.

 

God has a way of challenging people to do what is hardest for them, because in most situations, the easy choice is not the choice that grows you. For me, the hardest thing was (and still is) allowing myself to get really close with people. Add a deadline to the amount I time I have with that person and the likelihood of me baring my soul goes down to an all-time low.

 

I wouldn't have guessed at that moment on the plane what crazy emotions and growth would come from the answer to that one question. At the time, I probably just thought something along the lines of "that sucks." I never would have imagined the amount of tears that I would shed, the amount of questioning God it would arouse, or the sadness that would ensue. But as I became aware of those very things, God pushed me out of the boat and onto the waves, so to speak. The very excuses I used as reasons not to be vulnerable - "I don't have much time and it'll hurt more when she leaves if I get close," - became the reasons I should do the very thing I was terrified to do. I went to breakfast with my intern advisor Katie last week, and she asked me how my relationships were within the internship. I realized that morning that I was really holding everyone at arm's length. I kept people far from me to protect myself but ended up isolating and hurting myself instead. And so began the process of taking off the mask for good. I still have a long way to go, but I fully intend never to wear it again. Ever.

 

I am a recovering mask artist. I am learning to love despite risk.

 

Becca leaves in two weeks and my heart breaks, but I can say with confidence that being real and vulnerable and allowing myself to get close to others is so worth it.