Years into the search for meaning then, or now the meaning-making of my existence once I came around to the idea that things only make sense if I let it be, I’m again reminded about the (dis)power of personae: the social masks, the designated identities, the responsibility hats that are inescapable.
I remember when the concept first came around during my spiritual era, the “soul-ution” was so digestable: stripping off. As if it was something bad to have. As if whatever I claim to be my identity was bad. Just like Budha’s teaching, those personae are conventional designation, nothing is permanent except for the solid soul. Hence, I should just let it go to end the sufferings.
It was a terrible idea. You don’t tell a horny, hungry, insecure, desperate early-20s girl to let go. The reality was, I loved my sufferings. I ventured out of my comfort zones to take even more hats, more masks. I played with them. I inserted myself into people’s lives, never thinking about the consequences (which was also stupid). But I was so young and free. I figured I could be whatever.
But again, it didn’t last long either. I soon noticed there are hats I can’t take off. At the end, I am a human with a certain upbringing, a certain set of genes, and most importantly, a human interrelated with other humans. I was, am, and will always be my parents’ daughter, my sister’s sister, my friends’ friend, my partners’ partner. When I go into the outside world, I am someone’s colleague, client, patient, acquaintance, or even someone’s evanescent lover. Most of the time, none of these roles has the slight effect on me other than a network of support. But the rest of the time, they can be suffocating with responsibilities and expectations.
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Recently I came across an interview from Insider with Dr. Patric Gagne, a clinical psychologist and a sociopath that felt surprisingly relatable. She talked about her experience of constant social masking and emotional learning leading to emotional claustrophobe, an accumulation of “stuck stress” that can only be released by an act of deviance. Emotional claustrophobe indeed is something that we neurotypical too experience, everyone has a certain level of sociopathy, she said. In order to release it, for some of us, we just need to breath. For some others, we feel the urge to escape, to be where we are not supposed to be.
“Where am I not supposed to be?”
Where nothing is expected of me. Where I am only a stranger. Where I am perceived in the present. Where I can be quiet without being asked what’s wrong. Where I can be affectionate without it becoming a promise. Where I can be spontaneous without it being taken as a declaration of who I am. Where my body doesn’t feel stuck up. Where I can experience true peace. Where I don’t think about going back to where I’m supposed to be.
Perhaps, that “where” doesn’t have to be an actual place. Perhaps it is a dedicated space and time that I set aside for myself, uninterfered. Perhaps it is an experience that happens in a confined time and space. Perhaps it is a stranger that doesn’t know my history. Perhaps it is this anonymous space right here that I am sharing my tangled lines of thoughts. Perhaps I don’t have to escape to a faraway land. Perhaps I can have that space for awhile and then return to be with my people and wear my hats for them.
Perhaps I can also create my own anonymous hat: today, I am a breathing, sky gazing, anti-social human being that plays one single song in infinite loop.