My Mask: Is it a lie I wear right now?

LeelaDeda

Its only in a time where I'm wearing a mask more frequently, am I now attempting to unmask my identity. And to channel my inner Alanis Morissete 'isn't that ironic. Don't ya think?'

This will be the last part of my intro blog. I wanted to write three parts Truth, Lying and Editing but I've since argued with myself, that lying is a form of the editing. I tie this up by using the metaphor of a mask.

Masks. We all were masks. Some literally and some in the names and handles we use for our profile. They protect us. They can give courage and hide weaknesses. They, as we well know by now can also hide heroes.

On social media many of us edit what people see, how people see us. We carefully construct each and every word of our lives, as I am now. I've been guilty of this, still am guilty of this. This is the mask to the world that we choose to edit.

This is not a bad thing mind you. By changing the lenses that the world see's us through it can often give courage. They can give us a sense of control. Them same lenses however can make us blind.

I feel that that right now I am wearing a mask. This may not be true, but it's how I feel. I feel unbelievably sexy when dressed as a woman. I gain confidence by editing my image. Editing my gender. My name, even my sexual preferences.

Now make no mistake in my meaning. I do not intend any disrespect to any transgendered person, they know who they are entirely.

I am simply explaining that I am torn with how I feel about myself. I love my girly side, Gemma as I like to call her, who feels like an amazing version of me. Yet when I climax to my desires I cast her aside. As one would a mask after the end of a costume party. 

I hide many weaknesses behind my mask. 

I often feel I should have been born a girl. I feel my life would have been easier. Perhaps my father may not have paid me too much unwanted attention. Perhaps I would not have needed to learn how to speak to a girl. Feel the pressures of making the first move. Sure someone could argue that these would be replaced with pressures of finding a decent man. Pressures of a biological clock (pressures society puts on women) and yes that is possibly true. But to be selfish, I cannot imagine any more pressure than I put on myself right now, well because I am me and no one else.

So I wear my mask. A mask that crumbles as I fall into uncertainty. A mask that cracks as I judge myself. Torn by wanting the acceptance I deny even myself. I hate myself for this. For making life so damn hard for myself. 

I wish I could just let go. Be carefree. Just be me. 

I feel it on my shoulders even as I write. I feel myself shake. That anxiety and woe and judgement that just for one moment goes when I become Gemma. I lie to myself as I put on that dress. As I put on my mask that I am that confident. 

When really the ultimate show of confidence and bravery would be to show Gemma to the world. Maybe I will be that brave someday. Maybe I'll accept that she is the real me. 

By now but you'd probably agree that a session with a councillor might just be what I need, and I'd probably agree, but for now writing this I what I need. To work through the issues facing my lack of living. I thank those that have given me lovely comnents of support.

I apologise if this blog on my identity is slightly incoherent, or if I contradict. then again, that's how I feel my identity is right now. I have written my thoughts and memories, told truths that have been hard to tell and ultimately came out of this with more questions. 

Sure this may not get me attention, likes, friend requests or meet ups. It is not sexy (that comes in future blogs) It is just something I felt I needed to write.

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