Sometimes I wonder who the real me is. It seems that we spend a lifetime putting on the masks of expectations, that of the son is different to that of the father, or of the brother or husband. For me the policeman mask is very different to that of the CEO, or the cleaner, factory worker, shop assistant that I have been in the past.

The facade of confidence is more evident in some masks than in others as is the air of vulnerability. And even within the masks, are similar ones that display different emotions, to the point at times, when they may even appear to be a totally different mask.

So who am I? Well the truth is an amalgam of all of them. Very few people have seen the real me. I don’t really believe that is too different to other people, or maybe it is. Are some people so open that they are exactly the same person no matter who they are with or what situation they are in? Or do we all selectively put them on or shed them to fit with a certain situation. Where does the honesty kick in or the lie begin? And why do we do it? Is it fear or even ego?

Is it worse for a man than a woman because to be the provider is to have a desire to be seen as strong and without weakness? Or do women face the same issues? Is the mask of the carer, the mother, the daughter, the wife, the worker, the boss any more an amalgam of the true person than those of the masks of a man?

Rhetorical questions my friends, are there any answers.

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