I have received this e-mail by a good friend.
Dont let your masks in life prevent you from living life to its fullest with God on your side. I am sure this is the heart-cry of many.
We all should stop and really listend when someone is talking, cause just maybe that person is crying out from the depth of their heart for help - but always pretending that he/she are fine - it is so easy to say "I am OK" even when you don not mean it.
Please Hear What I am NOT Saying
(Thoughts from the book "Healing the Child Within" by Charles L. Whitfield M.D. submitted by a survivor of years of abuse, abandonment, divorce and despair. )
Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear. For I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled. For ............... don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies
confusion and fear and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only hope and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your
laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good, and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance
without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying; what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say. I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling, you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator - .................. - of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic and uncertainty, from my lonely prison, if you choose. Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man, often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing that I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls, and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive. Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
**** My personal note: As I experience love with skin and bones on it, I am
more able to receive love from Jesus - my Ultimate Healer.
****************************************
Dont let your masks in life prevent you from living life to its fullest with God on your side. I am sure this is the heart-cry of many.
We all should stop and really listend when someone is talking, cause just maybe that person is crying out from the depth of their heart for help - but always pretending that he/she are fine - it is so easy to say "I am OK" even when you don not mean it.
Please Hear What I am NOT Saying
(Thoughts from the book "Healing the Child Within" by Charles L. Whitfield M.D. submitted by a survivor of years of abuse, abandonment, divorce and despair. )
Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the face I wear. For I wear a mask, a thousand masks, masks that I'm afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that's second nature with me, but don't be fooled. For ............... don't be fooled. I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness my game, that the water's calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing. Beneath lies no complacence. Beneath lies
confusion and fear and aloneness. But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed. That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only hope and I know it. That is, if it's followed by acceptance, if it's followed by love. It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers I so painstakingly erect. It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself, that I'm really worth something. But I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I'm afraid to. I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance, will not be followed by love. I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh, and your
laugh would kill me. I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good, and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game, with a facade of assurance
without and a trembling child within. So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks, and my life becomes a front. I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that's really nothing, and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me. So when I'm going through my routine, do not be fooled by what I'm saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying; what I'd like to be able to say, what for survival I need to say, but what I can't say. I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games. I want to stop playing them. I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me, but you've got to help me. You've got to hold out your hand even when that's the last thing I seem to want. Only you can wipe away from my eyes the blank stare of the breathing dead. Only you can call me into aliveness. Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings, very feeble wings but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling, you can breathe life into me. I want you to know that. I want you to know how important you are to me, how you can be a creator - .................. - of the person that is me if you choose to. You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble, you alone can remove my mask, you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic and uncertainty, from my lonely prison, if you choose. Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. The nearer you approach to me the blinder I may strike back. It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man, often I am irrational. I fight against the very thing that I cry out for. But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls, and in this lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands but with gentle hands for a child is very sensitive. Who am I, you may wonder? I am someone you know very well. For I am every man you meet and I am every woman you meet.
**** My personal note: As I experience love with skin and bones on it, I am
more able to receive love from Jesus - my Ultimate Healer.
****************************************
