The Masks We Carry With Us: Exploring How We Show Up in the World
by Anna Christine Seiple
What does it look like to examine the authentic ways we connect with others? Anna Christine Seiple leads us into a study of our unconscious self-protective strategies.
“I go into the mode without even trying. It feels so fake and ingenuine, but I don’t know how to stop. Once it’s happening, it’s like I’m trapped in it. I watched my mom do the same thing growing up, and it drove me crazy. Now, I do the same exact thing, feeling like I’m going to make myself crazy!”
Along with her words, my client’s eyes looked back at mine, saying, Can you help me? I’m tired, and I feel so stuck. She continued speaking, saying, “It’s like there’s this part of me that takes over, it’s mostly in social situations where I feel a bit anxious or uncomfortable. I become really nice and polite, but I can feel in my gut that this mode is disconnected from the rest of me. I can’t fully say or express what I’m really thinking and feeling, like the real me is trapped deep within.”
I made sense of what my client was saying based on the clinical categories that shaped my perspective in my early years as a therapist. We slowed down together to get curious about the different “parts” of her that came together to make the whole of her, along with the overwhelm her body would feel in these situations. We explored the function of her going into “the mode” and how this might have helped her in the past, along with how it might have even helped her mom too.
The parts of her that didn’t feel seen or able to use their voice in these situations welled up in tears, expressing the overwhelming emotion that seemed to paralyze her in the moments that prompted the very thing she didn’t want. Still, she found herself hopping back into “the mode,” even when we said goodbye at the end of our sessions. It was as though there was a muscle-memory deep within that she couldn’t figure out how to tap into or break out of, even though she would have given anything to be free from it.
While she never used the word masking in that conversation, that’s exactly what we were talking about — the process of suppressing how we are naturally wired to conform to what’s seen by others as most acceptable, normal, or typical. In day to day life, this can be as simple as demonstrating a smile and a chipper tone when someone asks how we are, when really, we’re entirely overwhelmed inside, but we don’t feel free to give voice to what’s authentically happening within.
Whether it’s implicitly or explicitly, we learn from others what’s socially acceptable in how we show up in the world or in specific spaces, holding some emotions and expressions at bay. Maybe we’ve learned not to complain even when we’re really uncomfortable or in pain. Maybe we’ve been told to be soft and sweet even if our demeanor is naturally more dominant and direct. Maybe we stress over how our emails are perceived, trying hard to appear kind and friendly instead of cold or business-like, not feeling the freedom to simply ask a question apart from friendly formalities.
For many, masking develops unconsciously in our bodies and brains as a survival strategy, often when we’re young, helping us navigate the world around us as successfully as possible. And while masking can help us in some seasons and circumstances, after enough years, we’re often left feeling trapped in muscle memory that frustrates us, just like my client described. This muscle memory doesn’t develop apart from messages, messages that we receive implicitly or explicitly from the world around us.
Maybe we’ve heard “Don’t be a crybaby” or “Stop crying,” and we learned to hide our emotions. And in doing so, we’ve unknowingly developed neural pathways that helped us conceal vulnerability that was clearly not welcome in the presence of another. Or maybe our emotion was perceived as a lack of trust in God and we learned we were supposed to be strong in our faith while remaining meek and mild, silencing the depths of what stirs within. Cue more complex and shame-driven muscle memory to develop beneath the surface.
Maybe we’ve been told “Calm down, don’t be so loud, you’re being dramatic,” and we learned to hold parts of ourselves back in our relationships. And in doing so, we unknowingly became comfortable tucking away facets of who we are beneath the surface. Or maybe we’ve had Scripture quoted at us that depicts an ideal woman, shaming us for not submitting to God’s design. Cue pressure to conform and stay within a faith family that shapes a fear-driven response, teaching us to fawn rather than living freely.
Maybe we’ve received a blank face from another when sharing about an accomplishment at work, or judgmental comments about when we plan to have children, or how we can give so much of ourselves to work with kids at home. And in those interactions, we’ve learned that our giftings and successes outside the house will not be embraced or celebrated. Maybe we’ve even learned that work is a safe place to be strong and competent, but faith communities are not, and in those spaces, the work-place version of us needs to stay locked in a closet as we put our most gentle and quiet face forward. Cue desensitization to people not always seeing or knowing the real us, the full person that we are in our most raw form.
In whatever ways we have received messages to mask parts of us or certain ways that we are wired, I wonder, what might it be like to reconnect with the core of who we are beneath the surface — the creation that God said is very good — even if people around us have communicated a different message?
Rather than trying to leave you with answers (which I don’t have!), I’ll leave you with some reflections to journey with me as I keep pondering these things myself. I’m curious:
What are the ways you feel you need to conceal or hide any aspects of yourself to be accepted as a woman, as a professional, or as a Christian?
How do these layers get interlaced together and create expectations that you feel pressure to mold to?
What are the ways you see yourself suppressing the person God created in you—the ways you are innately wired—in order to be more accepted or more liked?
What are the messages you’ve received about how you “should” exist in the world as a woman (implicit or explicit) that run through your head, or are felt in your gut, even if it’s not in specific thoughts or words? See what it’s like to add to the messages above or write out your own that express internal dialogues that play inside for you.
As you take these reflections with you, my hope and heart is that you might join me in curiously connecting with what’s shaped our muscle memory that lives within, so that we can more freely and deeply connect with who God created us to be.
Read the second article in this series for more on women, neurodivergence, and masking.
Photo by Nishaan Ahmed on Unsplash
Anna Christine is a licensed counselor, researcher, and author. She loves cultivating healing spaces that honor the entirety of our embodied beings. She holds two master’s degrees, one in clinical mental health counseling and a second in biblical studies, and has served in a spiritual formation fellowship. She is adjunct faculty at Johnson University in Knoxville, Tennessee and is currently working on a PhD at the University of St Andrews in Scotland. Her writing, along with free integrative resources, can be found on acseiple.com.