Masks
Disclaimer: I touch on the subjects of being a victim of pedophilia, having gender dysphoria, experiencing stalking, military sexual trauma, and suicidal thoughts.
Also, I have to mention this because of how horrible people use it as an example of why people experience dysphoria or are LGBTQIA in any way: just because someone has experienced childhood trauma does not make them into being part of the Rainbow. You are born how you are and nothing changes that.
Some of the earliest memories are happy, indifferent, or curious ones. Every child learns to explore the world in an innocence that only one so young can know. This stands true for the most part in my story of life up until a point—a point that no one so young should ever face: distrust, terror, being alone, and blaming themselves for something out of their control as an undeveloped full human.
Most of the world knows of this act as wrong, predatory, and twisted to those whom they harm. This word is known as something vile and disturbing: Pedophilia. This one word can explain it all. The innocence is ripped from children not old enough to understand the world in a basic sense. There are some instances of a child being older and understanding a bit more, but that only adds to the confusion of their world comprehension, twisting it into a dark form.
This story starts around the age of four, not even old enough to have started school for most, and a time when most children learn to trust the adults around them to take care of them. Suddenly, a place of incredible wonder and excitement every time you visit becomes a place of darkness. A place you learned helpful life skills becomes a place of confusion. How can something flip so quickly as this? Betraying a child’s trust in one of the most traumatic ways you can by taking advantage of someone who doesn’t know how cruel the world can be.
If there was a teacher who asked you up to their office to see your favorite place from a wide angle – high in the wonders of the glassed rooms above – wouldn’t you want to go? Remember, this is from the innocence of your younger self, full of wanting to learn all of life to its fullest. Exciting right? A new place that only the adults could go to see all you loved at once, and from a person you trusted as a teacher, to you and others. You’d go, right? Of course, any kid with a wonder would want to check out this new land of unknown opportunities, especially with an adult who was there to take care of them while they were at this place of learning.
You climb the steps. First, with excitement, you wait for the adult to open the door since you don’t have the key to open this tantalizing new place. The way is unlocked and the large, beautiful windows show everything below. The room is dark and the adult makes no effort to shine a light on this wondrous place. Curiously, a child wonders why the light isn’t making the whole new place known but then that is when the innocence is destroyed.
This huge person compared to you, advances and everything feels wrong. You don’t know why. There is an adult here so you should feel safe. They forcefully touch you and pick you up to sit on their lap. It feels wrong and hurts. The young mind shuts down not knowing how to cope with what is occurring but somehow it is your fault when a light suddenly washes out the darkness. There is only confusion and hurt when you see a parent distraught, with sad tears running down their face. You have never met sadness before in such a way and you were the cause of it in some way.
Other intimidating adults surround you with guns on their hips, things that your parents explained as dangerous objects. You want to answer them but nothing comes out and your head feels lost, as if lost in a dense fog. For the next year, there are only glimpses of the story of life. Buildings that were full of adults asking question after question with strange books full of words of all the wrong things that aren’t supposed to happen. There are feelings you have never felt so strongly before and with such a young mind, there is no way to express them. Your mouth always feels in pain and with a pressure that wants to escape but is stuck inside. The questions in this strange place with untrustworthy strangers are not a place to be.
Home is still safe with people who would never betray you. They have never hurt you, watched out, and cared for you longer than any other human you remember. Unfortunately, people visit who you have decided are scary with their weapons and fake smiles. You are lucky to have a sibling to help hide you from them when they try to ask questions you cannot answer.
Eventually, there is one without a fake smile that just feels different. He is nice and doesn’t pester you with the hard words the whole time. Some of the fog lifts slightly, just enough for you to get the gunk out of your mouth. Your parents, who always make you feel safe, are seen for the first time in some time and you finally can force the words you held onto for so long. You just talk about a toy you just got that brought you enjoyment, as the sadness leaks out of the larger human but this time it doesn’t feel sad or hurt but relief. You are scared of questions but there are none, just time to enjoy the lessened pressure.
Life continues, but your time as a child is over. Yes, you are five years old and stepping into the larger world with other children at a place of learning. Everything is kept at a distance, and worry is ever-present. Adults outside your refuge can never be trusted again as a safety net from anything scary. That is something only you or those trusted in the shelter or home can do.
Years go by. School is less frightening and more fun but never safe. Wonder and curiosity slowly sneak back into your life but in a more muted tone. Everyone around feels distant and too innocent. They are always filled with too many words and touching. It is not like you never got overwhelmed with these things before but it was different. It just made your brain feel funny but now only the words are static while the touch brings a terror you still cannot explain.
Humans are supposed to be able to relate to one another and fit in with a group to interact with the world. When you are the only one who is the abnormal piece to the puzzle in school, it makes you feel wrong. That is the only correct assumption since there is only one example from a class of similar children. Is it because they all just seem so ignorant? You have always been first at many things; the other children seemed so slow to get there. That couldn’t be the only reason, right? It had to be the unspeakable thing, that is taboo even in your safe space.
Every time your mouth felt stuffed with cotton, even if just for a moment, it brought on panic and those around you chastised you for not having the words. They were there but in a different space than what you were thinking at the time. Then there were new and different classes than most of the other kids. This only furthered the feeling of difference. When there is something not like others presented in a setting where conforming is how to survive, it is usually culled from the herd.
Eventually, this difference becomes your own place. Decorated, painted and the pretty things you find interesting are placed around this void. You decide that focusing on these is more fun than the other humans surrounding you and take joy in this. The only other people you interact with are a very small few you decide to let in. Those in your shelter are always there but encourage you to find those of your own age. Sometimes there is one or two that are not so bad. You share interests and find some joy in playing together.
But there is always this voice deep inside that just knows that the things you share with others can be ripped out from underneath you. That door held open to the new wondrous things to share could easily be a trap, especially if it is with anyone you once knew to be safe. You know what is right and wrong at a fundamental core but adults seem too stupid to know it all the time.
Suddenly, a few years later the very few friends you felt comfortable with are gone or distant. It wasn’t a breach of trust or because of anything traumatic that occurred but of something else you don’t quite understand. The group you finally fit into suddenly kicked you out cause you were diseased. This strange concept that they called girl cooties. There were two groups now, with a set of rules you did not get. Those were called boy or girl. That couldn’t be right though, because you never were this girl they tried to label you as. It wasn’t your label but one unexpectedly assigned.
Anger is the only response you can think of to this confusion. In your safe place, you yell it out. You want this other label, the boy one. It fits you even though you couldn’t explain it. The safety you knew abruptly was a little less so, but you knew how to make it safe again. You just had to put on the label given out at school and shove those feelings down into the ever-growing void.
While at school, you studied more than just what the adults taught. You learned more about this new mysterious group. In your own place, you took notes and created your first work of art: a pink mask with a little bow.
Another teacher has that feeling of being wrong. You know the feeling but can’t pinpoint it precisely because it isn’t directed at you. In some way, it feels nice not to have those predatory eyes on you. They aren’t for you but it brings a different kind of wrongness. You stand up to injustice against the one person who is always close to you. They are your brother and those your age are being mean to them, violent to them. You can’t stand for it and stand up to them. Words are still hard and since they show violence, it is the only means you know to get these creatures to stop. It isn’t like you maimed them permanently but you still are the sole one at fault. Those three can’t be at fault because the adult in charge has feelings for them but you are different for some reason. Boys can be boys after all.
More years go by and the only thing you are bad at studying is the social label placed upon you. The mask you made is good enough to fool those who are only around for a little while. Strangers, take comfort in your proficiency in the creation placed ahead of you, thanks to a parent helping with the manufacturing. Some of the teachings at home feel stiff and more out of a place of protecting you from what shall never be mentioned. You know they mean well; this never feels different from your other siblings. Two masks have slightly different situations but you are always allowed to learn both; one blue with your brother and one pink given to you.
Then, the time when most of the pink label grows into a different form comes to you. It is not right as that label was given to you but never actually you. Soon, the blue masks grow into new forms as well and you grow jealous of this form. You aren’t allowed to put on the blue creation you had anymore without others around you ridiculing you or calling you names. It brings pain and confusion, so you lock up this mask further down in your library that you cultivated from the void you had long ago. It was time to focus on the pink mask, even though it was wrong and made you feel broken in many ways.
Focusing on this persona over the years comes with ease and mastery, even if it isn’t a perfect fit. People your age feel comfortable with it, and it comes with acceptance. You even repress what your first actual crush was because that mask isn’t supposed to feel that. Instead, you adapt it to your best friend. They fit the feeling of safety and comfort. Eventually, with all the hand-holding and hanging out sessions called dates, you both decide it's only for friendship. Then burning eyes bore into the mask you wear. They find it pretty and likable. They want to touch and kiss it but to you it is revolting. You only do certain acts if you want to grow something inside of you after all, right?
Finally, you are accepted enough with this facade you have grown accustomed to but with this comfort, you start slipping in other studies. That paranoia you kept around to keep you safe and distant from scary feelings lessens. Less-than-ideal humans become closer to you without it until they come to your safe place. A parent brings this to your attention without your disguises, heightening the small panicked blob hidden behind the wall in your mind.
Without the filter from the mask, you take a closer look at this person. They have that wrongness to them you felt back in that dark room but it is slightly different. It’s not an adult form perverted by a child but a hungrier one that tries to make contact with your face. It’s an act you heard of but never wanted to do with anyone. It makes you feel unclean and you flee with little other choice. Your home used to feel 100% safe but now you have to block every entrance to the heart of your shelter because you don’t know the words or that you can go to an adult for help. The problem leaves and the safe place is whole once more.
Eyes follow your every move once you leave, especially at school. This Hunter’s glare is around every corner and space you frequent. After a few days, the panic rises to levels you do not wish to confront. These Eyes try to talk to you but the feeling of cotton stuffs your mouth. You had gotten so good at words for confrontations but now you are at a loss for what to do. Thankfully, someone you have a familiar label with seems to understand and walks you home, to safety. The parent is upset and reaches out to a school adult.
The next day you are called into this adult space, this locked door area. Through an incredible amount of effort and fear, you manage to voice some words but not well. Then you feel the Eyes and the lit room goes dark. You find a corner of the room to become small in, to hopefully go unseen but the Adult that was supposed to help has failed you and the Eyes don’t leave. These questions you cannot answer and it overwhelms you. You have no mask to fall back on now for this besides the angry one that keeps people away but it comes with a cost of time skipping. At least the Eyes are forced to stop…mostly.
It is time for the big wide world. No longer a child but an adult yourself with more masks in the arsenal now. You prepared with your parents' help to craft these pieces for any situation. So you make decisions for yourself but never just for yourself. It is for your safe place and those in it always. You are the oldest, first from the nest, and now you need to protect the two other young ones. Deciding not to take the money or debt from more school, you venture out for what you have been told is an adventure. You would be surrounded by comrades and people to protect one another.
The first step is hard, but you are making the shelter proud. Your pink mask with a tiny bit of blue helps you keep the Eyes away enough but not too far to distance yourself from the label. The first level in the world is completed with little incident.
The second step is harder because there is more freedom for most. The quick environment would usually be fine but words had always been more complicated than learning other ways. This school made it hard to grasp. Along with that were many Eyes. Not as intense but ones you felt you had to appease. The first set was relatively harmless. You played the role but not well enough, so they evaporated. A second pair glanced and complemented the pink mask, so you leaned into the girl label more and followed what the others did to make this set happier.
Alone. The Eyes became harsh and commanding in a way you had felt before. Inside the innocent child that made everything alright with the blanket of darkness came forth. Your mouth could not produce words with a different form of cotton and a rough hand, making removing it impossible. Numbness took over everything. Your body continued afterward with the usual mask. Thankfully when those eyes gazed on another long enough it snapped you awake. It released you from the grasp long enough for the fog to lift. You run.
You work on a different mask for a while. The creation isn’t healthy, but it works enough to keep you safe without shelter.
Toxic people come and go, but you never let them get close enough. You know these humans have flaws and keep them close, but not close enough. You let them indulge in liquor and babysit them afterward, rewarding them with food you prepare.
It gets tiring after a while though but you need a group to stay with for safety. Family visits – your true safety net – and you invite that group and some others to occupy the safe place. Something unexpected happens. A softer group comes by instead of the one you thought would come. Spending some time tweaking your creation, you return to this new group to replace the other one that used your kindness, the stuff you longed for but were too scared of a trap.
Keeping prepared at all times, this new group chipped at the mask slightly. You kept gluing it and repairing it, but those lines were filled with gentler materials every time.
Once this harsh school is finally over and you have managed to slip by, the family group comes to congratulate you. You made them proud and have a better chance of keeping the shelter safe. Before you all separate, they worm into your cracks to reveal deadened feelings that spark their numbed forms to life. There is someone you want to be close to but are extremely afraid to allow yourself to open back up.
You take the risk and take off that mask. You allow the other to see you, and they reciprocate, but what then?
School takes priority over crafting masks. The constantly tired underneath is fed just enough to be kept alive. The contingents you put in place grow weary and falter. A roommate you allowed enough trust to share a common space takes advantage of you. Unwanted touching, even though the human you have paired with was in the other room sleeping. The small child dashes forth with their blanket for the feelings you don’t wish to confront.
Later, the one who knows you better than you’d want to admit knows something is up. Your mask slips off enough for them to glimpse the pain and confusion underneath. With patience, you are allowed enough time to voice what happened. They take care of it and tell you to feel for once. It is freeing and terrifying, as sad tears can come without being seen as a weakness.
Unfortunately, the adults – well more authoritative adults – are still no help. Thanks to your emotional connector you can function with the Eyes around. Those Eyes were slightly different but they still hurt you. Apologies could never be enough. You have more pressing matters, though; school to finish. With confidence worn down, you manage to slip by again.
Suddenly, you are ripped from your support and sent to a new unknown place alone. You have a few better masks this time, with thorns and scales to protect you. Words through computers and phones help bolster these creations over time. You take the words of a scary big female as a compliment and use them to fuel the front. You don’t let the males win in any way and keep up with them despite injuries. Nothing can make you weak.
Except when a parent passes suddenly, so far away from you. Cracks in the mask begin to form. New feelings that have never come across threaten to break through and do so without warning. You cry and are weak for doing so. Threatening Eyes blanket you in hopelessness and drive you to the brink of desperation but a small step before any action grabs your hand and drags you back.
Broken but alive, a new mask is formed from anger and hatred for those who hurt you and so many others now gone from this world. This mask is toxic and flaking. The cracks only fill with instability and pain.
The smallest sliver of light shines through the unhealthy mask, and you jump for it—all in. What’s the worst that could happen at this point, right? You take selfish actions for once in your life and secure this escape, but not without breaking every creation.
You leave the sinking ship with barely anything intact—only a broken shell remains. Slowly and steadily, you build it back up. The masks never stay long or are created as well as they once were, and without much time, they shatter once more.
It takes years of slipping and finally having good people catch you to rebuild everything and then therapy to create things correctly. It takes even more years to learn to shed those toxic masks and embrace the squishy blob within, to accept and lovingly shape the form inside.
Now those insides want to be true to themselves.
