Taking Off the Mask: What’s Scary is Underneath

It's Halloween as I write this. A day for masks and pretense, yet I find myself ready to remove mine. The mask I've worn isn't made of plastic or fabric, but of carefully crafted stories and reassuring smiles. Today, it comes off.

Amazing how ten hours of sleep can affect my state of mind. There’s a clarity in the air that’s so obvious yet hard to articulate. Rewind 10 hours and it was quite the opposite.

Last night during dinner, an argument erupted over finances and my ineffective job search. I was already drained, though honestly, I’m not sure from what. Exhausted and mentally scattered, I didn’t have the energy to argue. I felt attacked and misunderstood. My defenses immediately shot up to protect my heightened sensitivities and insecurities. My thoughts were all over the place. I couldn't think clearly.

It’s been about a year since I’ve had a full-time position, an emotional roller coaster ride that I’ve worked hard to mask as a joyful experience of self-reflection and renewal. Not to say that it hasn’t been, for it has. There’s so much hidden, though, in the story I tell myself and others.

Somehow, in this lucid state after a good night’s rest, I’m inspired to release some of the pent-up emotions that have been simmering to a boil underneath the cover of what I think has been a year-long denial.

My friends tell me I have an irritating tendency to dramatize and catastrophize when nothing I’m experiencing is that horrific when compared to others. And I’m sensitive to the probability that what some of you are going through makes my account pleasant in comparison. With that in mind, I simply write to let go of the pressure to hide behind a smile. To relieve myself of some anxiety that can no longer be denied lest I want the pot to boil over. Let this be a moment of vulnerability in all its raw and unfiltered glory.

I want to begin by acknowledging my good fortune. Having a financial cushion has helped me weather this storm far better than many could. When multiple cars started breaking down the same week we learned our daughter's scholarship might be threatened, that emergency fund felt like a lifeline. Still worrisome, but manageable.

Perhaps this security is why I've been able to convince myself everything will be fine. Even as one car needs replacing and another demands new tires, brakes, and AC repairs, I tell myself at least they're paid off. My only debt is the mortgage. But reality is catching up—I'm now cashing out stock investments to stay afloat. While retirement accounts and the house remain untouched (for now), this short-term fix only heightens the urgency to find a real solution. Everything will be okay until it's not, and no amount of denial can prevent the inevitable unless I change course.

So how do I course-correct? I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out. What I do know is that a year later, whatever I've been doing isn't working like it has in the past.

I thought I had been managing things well, but the more frequent fights over money beg to differ. “Managing well” is subjective so let me provide a little context.

A year ago, shortly after the layoff announcement, I revisited and updated the approach that helped me quickly bounce back from previous layoffs. Building off what I’ve learned from past lessons, I refocused on important criteria for the long-term while devising a plan for the immediate future.

I started experimenting with things like Fiverr gigs and affiliate programs to generate bridge income while maintaining some level of autonomy and flexibility. I learned some interesting things from the process but there were no significant results after a few months. I had a self-imposed deadline to start a new income stream and the clock ran out. Everything felt forced and futile. To extend the financial runway, I shifted to gig work as a Dasher. The immediate income covered some monthly bills while still giving me the flexibility and time to focus on long term goals.

In past storms, I’ve learned that survival tactics—taking on unfulfilling work just to get by—only buy you a little time. If that time isn’t also spent building toward something meaningful, life risks becoming what Thoreau called ‘quiet desperation.’ Right now, I can feel that desperation growing, gnawing at me with each day that passes without a clear way forward. What makes things harder is the incessant questioning of whether there’s another way to play this game. Or perhaps I’m meant to find or create a new game—a better game—where I make the rules and it sets a good example of what could be, and should be, instead of the status quo.

I’m so over the status quo, the world of work Matrix as we know it. Give me the red pill , please.

All this deeper introspection helped me develop a new plan and routine to make the most of the extra time. I invested time, energy and money in exploring a career-long interest in HR as a possible career pivot. As I earn my certifications, I balance the coursework with reading, writing, daily exercise, housework, afternoon naps, reconnecting with friends, and of course, the search for something where I can better leverage my unique combination of experiences and skills. How this will all come together, I'm not sure, but I've been enjoying how I spend my days the last 6 months.

Looking back, I like to think I've been making good use of my career break. This is the story I tell myself and others, but it's also the delusion—my coping mechanism, as it were. A mask to cover some of the ugly details I prefer to hide. Last night is an example.

The argument hit at the worst time, stirring up a wave of self-doubt and shame that nearly took me over the edge. Financial fights especially pull me into dark places. Watching the family worry, I’m swallowed by feelings of failure, haunted by the thought that maybe I really can’t get anything right. I wonder if we should get a divorce so she can be free of me. Maybe everyone would be better off without me...

I imagine the ripple effects of a hasty decision gone wrong. Very scary indeed. This is the dark side beneath the mask. The feelings I hide and that keep me up at night even when I pretend all is well during the day.

As the argument heated up, I paused, then walked away, letting exhaustion ease me to sleep. As the alarm went off at 6 a.m. I woke up refreshed and relieved knowing that the emotional craziness had subsided as I let my bad dreams sort them out overnight.

Okay, so I removed the mask for a brief glimpse. Now what? Did I just take the first step? (Hi, my name is Donn and I’m…). Whatever I am, I’m better than I was yesterday. A certain burden has been lifted. I feel lighter with a sense of reprieve. Yet there are miles to go before I sleep, as Robert Frost would say.

Where does this road less traveled lead? We’ll find out. For now, I’m choosing to lean into the ups and downs with honesty. I’m committing to telling the real story—not just the version I want others to see. I hope this glimpse behind the mask won’t make you think less of me. But if it does, at least I’m learning to value my own truths a little more. And while I'm sure I'll reach for the mask again during my weak moments, it feels pretty good to take it off even for a little while.

To anyone out there facing something similar, take a moment to pause. Resist the pull to react while emotions are high. Let things settle, rest, and come back to the challenge with a calmer mind. Sometimes, all we need is a night’s sleep to bring things into perspective. Once things have settled, come clean and clear. Your challenges will still be there, but you'll be in a better frame of mind to overcome them.

Photo Credit: Christina Langford-Miller