The Masks We Wear

I loved Halloween when I was a kid. I loved the candy, I loved the pumpkin carving, but most of all, I loved the costumes. I was a cowboy, a care bear and more often than not, a professional baseball player. For me, that was what I wanted to be. Not uncommon I suppose, we all wanted to be something or someone.

That hasn’t changed for kids today. And tonight, your doorbell may be rung by a little Elsa, Minion or superhero. The role models have evolved, but the concept remains the same. A chance to live out out our day dreams - to become our fantasy self.

As we get older, Halloween offers an opportunity to get out of our comfort zone. As our identities take shape, whether we realize it or not, we begin to fit into categories. But, October 31st, allows us a one-day reprieve from the personas we have created for ourselves.

These days, Halloween makes me nostalgic. I remember the successful candy-hunting expeditions, the years it was so cold I had to wear a coat over my costume and of course the infamous Halloween blizzard of ’91. A week off school with nothing to do but devour candy!

However, this morning I was thinking about the masks and costumes we wear year-round. I have always attempted to dive deeper than the surface when it comes to outward perception. We as a society don’t do much of that anymore, but that’s a blog for another time.

Oftentimes, we read people by their cover. And oftentimes that person wants to be read by the cover they are projecting. I know that has been true for me.

For decades, the cover you would have read of me was as I preferred. Charismatic, outgoing, the life-of-the-party. The thing is, our permanent masks are not entirely a disguise. Those attributes were part of who I am. But how did I get to that place? And why was it so important to me for people to see me that way? Why did I need to be the focal point of conversations, events and competitions?

A team of psychologists have taken a crack at it over the years and largely struck out. And that is because I haven’t given them all the information. The simple version of my story sure, but not the parts that make me feel like I’m not enough. The parts I feel are shameful. The parts that I find embarrassing. The parts that have led me to the conflicting pursuits of being “normal,” while also pursuing standing out in a way that matters in the world. Confidence colliding with self-doubt. It’ll say that on my tombstone one day.

Lately, with mixed results, I have attempted to be truer to myself. The self that I know is scarred but caring. The self that tosses and turns many nights with regret, remembering the people I have mistreated in my life. The self that rarely pauses to reflect on the positive impact on people I may have had, because I am eager to have more. As with all of my writings, this isn’t meant as an answer. Merely a mile-marker as to where I am in this journey. To me, acknowledgment of the conflict within me is progress. It comes after years of kicking the mental health can down the road, not oblivious of it, but not willing to take off my mask for even for a little bit.

The problem with costumes is that they add weight to what we are already carrying. It takes a lot of effort to always be fashionable, be done up, have the perfect thing to say, be funny, or just be whatever we may want to convey to others. I’m no longer talking about me. I’m sure you may fit one of those descriptors. We all do.

So, what I try to do is give the grace that I hope for myself. I try to take time to understand why someone comes off outwardly as a jerk, a jokester, a politician or whatever it may be. There are always reasons. I don’t need to know what they are. I just need to acknowledge that they are there.

Mental health is labeled as a lot of things. And as the conversation grows, which is a good thing, those labels expand. For the most part, that is a positive thing. More people trying to discover the person they are on the pages of their story that reside inside the cover. The problem is there are people that aren’t comfortable with that within their own lives. Which is fine for them. But becomes problematic when they attempt to belittle or suppress another person’s ambition to self actualize.

I’ve always wondered why people get so worked up about what somebody else is doing when it has no effect on what they are doing. Which I suppose led me to wonder why I cared so much what other people thought about what I was doing when in actuality it had no effect on my life.

I got sick of it quite frankly. But when I started revealing my real self, there were some who didn’t want that version. They wanted the glossy. They wanted “Laze.” It’s funny, I actually got to a point where if someone called me Jon I thought they were mad at me. So yeah, this life isn’t easy. You know that. Those people removed me from their lives. That’s cool, that’s their prerogative. Truth be told, we extracted many from our lives too. Because that’s our prerogative. As it is yours. I don’t see much point in relationships that function only when we are in costume anymore.

So now, I don’t view them as different costumes. I view them as different parts of me. They serve me in my various roles. And I like switching between them, because oftentimes they intertwine. Yeah, this mental health thing is complicated. But it makes me a better friend, son, husband and yes, broadcaster.

I never want to ask for action from you. It’s not my place, and that’s not my business. I just hope for contemplation. So, as the Halloween costumes get put in the closet, I simply ask, is what you put on the next day the real you or just a different costume? Regardless of your answer, I would like to assure you that there are ladybugs in the world that will value who you are. Or who you strive to be.

Happy Halloween everyone!