Maybe this sounds weird--but that's what keeps us behind the masks, too often--right? But I've found that post-menopause was like walking through the gate to freedom. Without those pesky monthly hormones to push me around, I'm me! I'm my-self. I have shrugged off the shroud that kept me hidden. Just saying...!
Not weird at all...in fact, it’s incredibly freeing to hear. I love the way you described post-menopause as a gate to freedom. That imagery of shrugging off the shroud… wow. It’s such a beautiful reminder that becoming more ourselves can happen at any stage. Thank you for sharing this...it’s hopeful and empowering. 💛
Yes… sometimes. And when that happens, it feels like coming home. Like a part of us finally exhaling after holding our breath for too long. Thank you for putting that into words so gently. 💛
I've alternated between masking and unmasking so frequently, there are times when I wondered which version is the authentic me. It's exhausting. The gently presented pointed questions put forth here requires deep thought. 💙
I really feel this Nancy. That back-and-forth between masking and unmasking can be so disorienting...it makes sense to question what’s truly you when it’s been a survival pattern for so long. I’m so glad the questions offered space for deeper thought without pressure. You’re not alone in this. 💙
I started masking when I realised my true self was being wrongly perceived, but as a young girl I didn’t know what I was doing, or why it felt so uncomfortable. Of course, I was wearing a persona that wasn’t mine! But how do we articulate that until the realisation in later years hits us like a ton of bricks to the head…?
I’ve been unmasking everywhere and it hasn’t always been well received. And so I shall continue to unmask because their comfort is not going to be at the expense of my discomfort any longer…
A wonderful piece of writing, so gentle and so powerful in equal measure 🤍
This moved me so deeply. That moment of realisation really does hit like a ton of bricks—and yet, it also begins to set us free. I admire your bravery in choosing discomfort in service of your truth, even when it’s not well received. That’s such powerful self-respect. Thank you for sharing your heart here and for reminding us all that their comfort should never come at the cost of our own. 🤍
The fear is so real! At nearly 67 years old it is still so frightening yet so important to live authentically. It’s frightening because I am learning who I am while simultaneously revealing who I am to others. Some days it’s exhausting but I know it is worth it for however much time I have left on the earth to unmask and live. Awesome content! Thanks for sharing your heart with the world.
This moved me deeply. It is frightening, and you’ve put it so beautifully...how vulnerable it feels to discover yourself while letting others see you too. That kind of honesty takes such quiet strength. I’m truly honoured the piece resonated, and I’m cheering you on as you continue to unmask and live fully, in all the time ahead. Thank you for sharing this. 💛
Masks aren’t just protective—they’re exhausting. This piece reminded me how much energy goes into crafting, adjusting, and maintaining personas just to feel “safe” in the world.
One new insight:
I’ve always thought of masks as something we put on, but Salwa reframes them as something we start to confuse ourselves with. The idea that we forget where the mask ends and we begin—that’s haunting and uncomfortably true.
One idea I need time to reflect on:
“What persona are you wearing today—and is it one you still want to carry tomorrow?” That question feels like a mirror I didn’t ask to look into, but maybe need to. I want to sit with it longer—not just to answer it, but to listen for the parts of me that have gone quiet under the weight of the performance.
Matt, thank you so much for this thoughtful reflection...your words honestly moved me. I love how you’ve captured the tension between protection and exhaustion. That balance is so tricky, isn’t it? We learn to craft these personas for safety, but over time they become so familiar we forget they’re not us.
And I really appreciate you sitting with that final question. It is a bit of an uninvited mirror, and I felt that too while writing it. I hope the parts of you that have gone quiet feel safe enough to speak again, gently and in their own time. Grateful to be in this conversation with you. 🤍
Thank you so much for these kind and uplifting words. 🌿 I love the reminder that being open and embracing who we truly are can be a quiet form of encouragement to others. Sometimes, just showing up as ourselves with gentleness and honesty is the most powerful thing we can do.
Ahh, I love this so much. 🧡 There’s something deeply comforting about finally arriving at that place where the mask feels less like armour and more like a mirror. It takes time, courage, and so much unlearning. I’m so glad you’ve found that clarity
Your writings came to me after an evening of celebration with very close friends. I wonder about the masks I wear. I assume they are necessary because of the fear of how I am perceived. At times, I find my self feeling so removed from the conversation, frustrated with their inability to grasp what I’m feeling, their attempt at pacification. I can’t explain it. But I I love these women deeply and they are there for me in times of need. Yet, sometimes I feel ignored. When I feel like this, I just want to be home alone in my safe haven. I long for my dear husband who always got me - always. There were no masks ever. There has never been anyone since he died who has been able to fill that void for me.
Tina, thank you so much for sharing this so openly...it touched me deeply. What you’ve written captures something so tender and complex: the way we can love people, be surrounded by support, and still feel unseen. That ache of being misunderstood while trying to hold on to connection… it’s real. And the grief of having known someone who truly saw you, who accepted you with no masks at all...that kind of loss lingers in quiet, sacred ways.
It’s no wonder your safe haven feels like home, like truth. There’s something about being alone that can feel more authentic than being surrounded by others who don’t quite get it. You’re not alone in that feeling and I hope you continue to honour the spaces that let you breathe freely, even as you hold love for those who may not fully understand. Sending you warmth and so much care
I’m working on unmasking… except at work. I’d rather things just go smoothly there.
It’s led to me being quite lonely, actually. I’ve alternated between masking and unmasking throughout my life ~ often finding myself in codependent relationships while masking. I didn’t understand until very recently what codependency even means, or how and why I was entering and participating in these relationships. I get it now. It’s because every time I choose to really be myself, I find myself quite alone. I’m currently working on becoming comfortable with that, and discovering who I am even beneath the loneliness. I believe my tribe is out there; but I won’t find them until I am truly able to be authentic. And I can’t learn how to do that until I become firmly comfortable with being lonely. It’s really uncomfortable, but worth it.
This is so honest and so powerful....thank you for putting it into words. That in-between space of unmasking while still needing to keep the peace (especially at work) is such a familiar one. It makes total sense that you’d want smoothness in that area....it’s often a matter of survival more than anything.
What you’ve shared about codependency and loneliness struck a deep chord. It’s something many of us don’t fully understand until we start unravelling the patterns that kept us disconnected from ourselves. And yes… the loneliness that follows authenticity can feel so heavy—but also strangely sacred. It’s like you’re clearing space, uncomfortable as it may be, for real belonging to take root.
Your self-awareness is incredible, and I truly believe what you said: your people are out there. And you’re already on the path to them...one unmasked, brave moment at a time. Holding so much respect for your journey. 🤍
Thank you, Salwa. Your words help me to feel seen, heard and understood. I appreciate you, and this space you’ve created where I feel safe sharing these feelings and experiences openly. 🖤
Our one true mask should be authentic but there are situations, such as work, where protective covering is advisable. We can be the best people that we want to be but not everyone shares that goal, either for themselves or others.
You've beautifully presented an internal and external duality that we exercise daily. Acknowledging what feels right as opposed to what we think should be done is a careful balance between safety and authenticity.
Thank you so much Malick...that means a lot. You’ve captured the tension so perfectly: the quiet tug between what feels true and what feels “acceptable.” That dance between safety and authenticity isn’t always easy, and sometimes just naming it can be a powerful step. I’m really grateful you took the time to reflect and share this. 🤍
excellente et fine analyse. laisser tomber les masques pour plus d'authenticité.... à apprendre dès l'école. Or le paradoxe , c'est précisément à l'école que l'on apprend à en porter
I know those masks all too well—I used to have a whole collection, each one polished and ready to perform. Like you, I learned early how to predict what others needed, swiftly swapping personas like costumes: the agreeable daughter, the unshakable friend, the always-professional colleague. There were days my cheeks ached from holding a smile while my soul wept, days I wondered if anyone would recognize me if I ever took off the performance. The cruelest irony? Those masks were originally survival tools, gifts of perception and adaptability turned into cages. I became so adept at reading rooms that I lost the ability to hear my own voice beneath the layers.
Now, 99% of those masks gather dust—not because the world stopped demanding performances, but because I finally refused to pay the cost of admission with my authenticity. That remaining 1%? It’s the humbling reminder that transformation isn’t linear. Some days, an old reflex still whispers to grab the familiar disguise when storms hit, especially when vulnerability feels dangerous. But here’s the sacred difference: now I notice the weight immediately. That flinch of discomfort when a mask starts to settle? That’s my compass. And when I choose silence now, it’s not from fear but fierce discernment—knowing some truths are too precious to perform. The miracle isn’t that we learned to wear masks, but that we dared to take them off.
Leborah, this is one of the most powerful reflections I’ve ever received. I read it slowly, twice because every line held so much truth, and I didn’t want to miss a single thread of it. Your words feel like a letter to every version of myself I’ve been.
The masks we once wore to survive really do become cages when we no longer need them but haven’t yet learned how to live without them. That line about your cheeks aching while your soul wept? I felt that. And the way you described silence now as fierce discernment instead of fear? That gave me chills. What a beautiful, hard-won kind of power.
Thank you for sharing this with me, and with everyone here who is quietly trying to live unmasked, one tender decision at a time. We need these stories. We need this kind of truth.
I am deeply grateful for your courage in navigating these challenging conversations with such profound awareness and grace. Your approach not only fosters a safe and respectful dialogue but also demonstrates a remarkable ability to balance truth with compassion!
I think it’s important to spend time mostly with people who really can see you.
As I’m getting older I’m less tolerant of wearing a mask. I therefore tend to spend more time on my own or one to one with friends who can see the real me.
Feeling ok on your own with your own company minimises the need to mask. So I’m getting much more comfortable with my own company.
For me now, it’s highly important to live an authentic life. To minimise the need to mask.
However I love to salsa dance where there’s no expectation of the deep, meaningful, longer and authentic chats and connection that I love and prefer. There’s no need to mask as I’m focused on movement and music rather than emotional connection.
Piata, I really felt this...what you said about becoming less tolerant of the mask as you grow older. That deep craving for authenticity really does get stronger with time, doesn’t it?
It’s such a gift to feel safe enough in our own company that we no longer need to perform. I completely agree...being okay on your own softens that pressure to constantly shape-shift. And I love that you found something like salsa dancing, where presence matters more than persona. That space to just be...to move, feel the music, and not have to explain yourself is powerful in its own way.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful reflection. It’s a reminder that unmasking doesn’t always have to be loud or dramatic...sometimes, it’s simply choosing where we feel most at ease.
Maybe this sounds weird--but that's what keeps us behind the masks, too often--right? But I've found that post-menopause was like walking through the gate to freedom. Without those pesky monthly hormones to push me around, I'm me! I'm my-self. I have shrugged off the shroud that kept me hidden. Just saying...!
Not weird at all...in fact, it’s incredibly freeing to hear. I love the way you described post-menopause as a gate to freedom. That imagery of shrugging off the shroud… wow. It’s such a beautiful reminder that becoming more ourselves can happen at any stage. Thank you for sharing this...it’s hopeful and empowering. 💛
A new flavor to the dessert of aging!
and sometimes we remove the mask, show our authentic self, and are welcomed joyfully by the ones who were waiting to see us at last.
sometimes.
Yes… sometimes. And when that happens, it feels like coming home. Like a part of us finally exhaling after holding our breath for too long. Thank you for putting that into words so gently. 💛
I've alternated between masking and unmasking so frequently, there are times when I wondered which version is the authentic me. It's exhausting. The gently presented pointed questions put forth here requires deep thought. 💙
I really feel this Nancy. That back-and-forth between masking and unmasking can be so disorienting...it makes sense to question what’s truly you when it’s been a survival pattern for so long. I’m so glad the questions offered space for deeper thought without pressure. You’re not alone in this. 💙
Might find out there's a whole wardrobe of masks. One for every occasion!
I started masking when I realised my true self was being wrongly perceived, but as a young girl I didn’t know what I was doing, or why it felt so uncomfortable. Of course, I was wearing a persona that wasn’t mine! But how do we articulate that until the realisation in later years hits us like a ton of bricks to the head…?
I’ve been unmasking everywhere and it hasn’t always been well received. And so I shall continue to unmask because their comfort is not going to be at the expense of my discomfort any longer…
A wonderful piece of writing, so gentle and so powerful in equal measure 🤍
This moved me so deeply. That moment of realisation really does hit like a ton of bricks—and yet, it also begins to set us free. I admire your bravery in choosing discomfort in service of your truth, even when it’s not well received. That’s such powerful self-respect. Thank you for sharing your heart here and for reminding us all that their comfort should never come at the cost of our own. 🤍
The fear is so real! At nearly 67 years old it is still so frightening yet so important to live authentically. It’s frightening because I am learning who I am while simultaneously revealing who I am to others. Some days it’s exhausting but I know it is worth it for however much time I have left on the earth to unmask and live. Awesome content! Thanks for sharing your heart with the world.
This moved me deeply. It is frightening, and you’ve put it so beautifully...how vulnerable it feels to discover yourself while letting others see you too. That kind of honesty takes such quiet strength. I’m truly honoured the piece resonated, and I’m cheering you on as you continue to unmask and live fully, in all the time ahead. Thank you for sharing this. 💛
Hi Salwa. Great piece. Thank you.
One takeaway:
Masks aren’t just protective—they’re exhausting. This piece reminded me how much energy goes into crafting, adjusting, and maintaining personas just to feel “safe” in the world.
One new insight:
I’ve always thought of masks as something we put on, but Salwa reframes them as something we start to confuse ourselves with. The idea that we forget where the mask ends and we begin—that’s haunting and uncomfortably true.
One idea I need time to reflect on:
“What persona are you wearing today—and is it one you still want to carry tomorrow?” That question feels like a mirror I didn’t ask to look into, but maybe need to. I want to sit with it longer—not just to answer it, but to listen for the parts of me that have gone quiet under the weight of the performance.
Matt, thank you so much for this thoughtful reflection...your words honestly moved me. I love how you’ve captured the tension between protection and exhaustion. That balance is so tricky, isn’t it? We learn to craft these personas for safety, but over time they become so familiar we forget they’re not us.
And I really appreciate you sitting with that final question. It is a bit of an uninvited mirror, and I felt that too while writing it. I hope the parts of you that have gone quiet feel safe enough to speak again, gently and in their own time. Grateful to be in this conversation with you. 🤍
Remove all masks and be proud of who you are. Your purpose in life is to be open and encourage others with a smile.. Have faith in all life.
Thank you so much for these kind and uplifting words. 🌿 I love the reminder that being open and embracing who we truly are can be a quiet form of encouragement to others. Sometimes, just showing up as ourselves with gentleness and honesty is the most powerful thing we can do.
I love your writing. It always makes me think and reflect.
Thank you so much Nichole ❤️
After a few decades of wondering who I was, I finally feel I know what persona I'm wearing now :)
Ahh, I love this so much. 🧡 There’s something deeply comforting about finally arriving at that place where the mask feels less like armour and more like a mirror. It takes time, courage, and so much unlearning. I’m so glad you’ve found that clarity
It did take a lot of time, discovery and determination. Thank you, Salwa 💛
Your writings came to me after an evening of celebration with very close friends. I wonder about the masks I wear. I assume they are necessary because of the fear of how I am perceived. At times, I find my self feeling so removed from the conversation, frustrated with their inability to grasp what I’m feeling, their attempt at pacification. I can’t explain it. But I I love these women deeply and they are there for me in times of need. Yet, sometimes I feel ignored. When I feel like this, I just want to be home alone in my safe haven. I long for my dear husband who always got me - always. There were no masks ever. There has never been anyone since he died who has been able to fill that void for me.
Tina, thank you so much for sharing this so openly...it touched me deeply. What you’ve written captures something so tender and complex: the way we can love people, be surrounded by support, and still feel unseen. That ache of being misunderstood while trying to hold on to connection… it’s real. And the grief of having known someone who truly saw you, who accepted you with no masks at all...that kind of loss lingers in quiet, sacred ways.
It’s no wonder your safe haven feels like home, like truth. There’s something about being alone that can feel more authentic than being surrounded by others who don’t quite get it. You’re not alone in that feeling and I hope you continue to honour the spaces that let you breathe freely, even as you hold love for those who may not fully understand. Sending you warmth and so much care
Thank you, Salwa. You are a true gem. Your words always comfort me.
I’m working on unmasking… except at work. I’d rather things just go smoothly there.
It’s led to me being quite lonely, actually. I’ve alternated between masking and unmasking throughout my life ~ often finding myself in codependent relationships while masking. I didn’t understand until very recently what codependency even means, or how and why I was entering and participating in these relationships. I get it now. It’s because every time I choose to really be myself, I find myself quite alone. I’m currently working on becoming comfortable with that, and discovering who I am even beneath the loneliness. I believe my tribe is out there; but I won’t find them until I am truly able to be authentic. And I can’t learn how to do that until I become firmly comfortable with being lonely. It’s really uncomfortable, but worth it.
This is so honest and so powerful....thank you for putting it into words. That in-between space of unmasking while still needing to keep the peace (especially at work) is such a familiar one. It makes total sense that you’d want smoothness in that area....it’s often a matter of survival more than anything.
What you’ve shared about codependency and loneliness struck a deep chord. It’s something many of us don’t fully understand until we start unravelling the patterns that kept us disconnected from ourselves. And yes… the loneliness that follows authenticity can feel so heavy—but also strangely sacred. It’s like you’re clearing space, uncomfortable as it may be, for real belonging to take root.
Your self-awareness is incredible, and I truly believe what you said: your people are out there. And you’re already on the path to them...one unmasked, brave moment at a time. Holding so much respect for your journey. 🤍
Thank you, Salwa. Your words help me to feel seen, heard and understood. I appreciate you, and this space you’ve created where I feel safe sharing these feelings and experiences openly. 🖤
Our one true mask should be authentic but there are situations, such as work, where protective covering is advisable. We can be the best people that we want to be but not everyone shares that goal, either for themselves or others.
You've beautifully presented an internal and external duality that we exercise daily. Acknowledging what feels right as opposed to what we think should be done is a careful balance between safety and authenticity.
Thank you so much Malick...that means a lot. You’ve captured the tension so perfectly: the quiet tug between what feels true and what feels “acceptable.” That dance between safety and authenticity isn’t always easy, and sometimes just naming it can be a powerful step. I’m really grateful you took the time to reflect and share this. 🤍
excellente et fine analyse. laisser tomber les masques pour plus d'authenticité.... à apprendre dès l'école. Or le paradoxe , c'est précisément à l'école que l'on apprend à en porter
Dear Salwa!
I know those masks all too well—I used to have a whole collection, each one polished and ready to perform. Like you, I learned early how to predict what others needed, swiftly swapping personas like costumes: the agreeable daughter, the unshakable friend, the always-professional colleague. There were days my cheeks ached from holding a smile while my soul wept, days I wondered if anyone would recognize me if I ever took off the performance. The cruelest irony? Those masks were originally survival tools, gifts of perception and adaptability turned into cages. I became so adept at reading rooms that I lost the ability to hear my own voice beneath the layers.
Now, 99% of those masks gather dust—not because the world stopped demanding performances, but because I finally refused to pay the cost of admission with my authenticity. That remaining 1%? It’s the humbling reminder that transformation isn’t linear. Some days, an old reflex still whispers to grab the familiar disguise when storms hit, especially when vulnerability feels dangerous. But here’s the sacred difference: now I notice the weight immediately. That flinch of discomfort when a mask starts to settle? That’s my compass. And when I choose silence now, it’s not from fear but fierce discernment—knowing some truths are too precious to perform. The miracle isn’t that we learned to wear masks, but that we dared to take them off.
Leborah, this is one of the most powerful reflections I’ve ever received. I read it slowly, twice because every line held so much truth, and I didn’t want to miss a single thread of it. Your words feel like a letter to every version of myself I’ve been.
The masks we once wore to survive really do become cages when we no longer need them but haven’t yet learned how to live without them. That line about your cheeks aching while your soul wept? I felt that. And the way you described silence now as fierce discernment instead of fear? That gave me chills. What a beautiful, hard-won kind of power.
Thank you for sharing this with me, and with everyone here who is quietly trying to live unmasked, one tender decision at a time. We need these stories. We need this kind of truth.
With love,
Salwa 🤍
I am deeply grateful for your courage in navigating these challenging conversations with such profound awareness and grace. Your approach not only fosters a safe and respectful dialogue but also demonstrates a remarkable ability to balance truth with compassion!
I think it’s important to spend time mostly with people who really can see you.
As I’m getting older I’m less tolerant of wearing a mask. I therefore tend to spend more time on my own or one to one with friends who can see the real me.
Feeling ok on your own with your own company minimises the need to mask. So I’m getting much more comfortable with my own company.
For me now, it’s highly important to live an authentic life. To minimise the need to mask.
However I love to salsa dance where there’s no expectation of the deep, meaningful, longer and authentic chats and connection that I love and prefer. There’s no need to mask as I’m focused on movement and music rather than emotional connection.
Piata, I really felt this...what you said about becoming less tolerant of the mask as you grow older. That deep craving for authenticity really does get stronger with time, doesn’t it?
It’s such a gift to feel safe enough in our own company that we no longer need to perform. I completely agree...being okay on your own softens that pressure to constantly shape-shift. And I love that you found something like salsa dancing, where presence matters more than persona. That space to just be...to move, feel the music, and not have to explain yourself is powerful in its own way.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful reflection. It’s a reminder that unmasking doesn’t always have to be loud or dramatic...sometimes, it’s simply choosing where we feel most at ease.
With warmth,
Salwa 🤍
We can sometimes feel more lonely in a group where no one sees us than at home alone investing in something beautiful for ourselves ❤️🩹
So applicable!
❤️🙏🏼