Before you judge, just remember this
could be you, however you don’t know it because you are wearing a mask~~Monroe Bishop
Mask of a Woman
Who is this
mask of a woman? Hiding behind who she really is, not being true to herself and
those around her. She only gives him what he wants to see and not who she truly
is. Is she doing this for fear losing
him? If so, why? Why would she want to stay with someone that she cannot be
herself around. An illusion of a woman is not a real woman, it is a fantasy, or
dream, and it is not real. Who is this
mask of woman? What mask are you wearing today? Every day is a different mask
because he is a different person every time you wake in his world. You never
know what you are going to get so you keep changing masks. He doesn’t notice. He
doesn’t know nor does he care what is behind the mask. If only he knew that
sadness, contempt, and sometimes hatred hides behind the mask. She hates him
for changing her into this sad pitiful woman. She hates herself for allowing
someone who is pathetic to change her. Who is this mask of a woman?
He chooses
to be whomsoever he wants to be yet expects you to be somebody different,
someone perfect, virtuous, someone who is innocent, quiet without their own
thoughts and feelings. He says according
to the Bible, a woman should not speak until spoken too. Sadly the mask she
wore that day believed him, she was silent. He knew when he married you that
your virginity was taken by others, innocence long gone and never claimed to be
a virtuous woman. What’s a virtuous woman? He knew what it was, that you had
lived your life. Hell he couldn’t have known any different, your baggage made
it obvious. At the time it didn’t matter
he knew you were moldable. He wanted to mold you into his version of a woman.
In order to mold you, he had to change you, and in order to change you he had
to break you and in order to break you he needed you to be alone. He had to
break you down and rebuild. Break you down so low that no one would know who you
were, not your mother, father, siblings or friends. You were essentially
manufactured. Goods. Property. Merchandise. Basically another mask. Who is this
mask of a woman?
In the
beginning, it was beautiful. Beautiful to you only, but none the less
beautiful. He was everything, your strength and your security. He was building you a mask. Always independent, now dependent financially
and emotionally. Sweet as sugar and so kind, she didn’t see the blows from his
words. Words that would bring down
mountains of self-esteem, words that would beat you physically and emotionally
leaving deep tissue wounds. However before you were too far gone in the
darkness, he would drop a hand to lift you with kind words, gifts and love. The
gifts masked the pain. Gifts hid the truth. Now she has a gift mask which
became a crutch. Who is this mask of a woman?
The sweet
kind words were a constant reminder of the person you met so long ago. She is
wearing the denial mask. It was a vicious cycle of crazy. He was her knight in shining armor. He would fight
for her, never allow anyone to disrespect her yet he did. He made her believe
there was no one else but him. He made her believe that everything she was and
everything she ever was because of him. He became her everything. Introducing
her to the finer things in life, jewelry, trips designer this and that. The
mask was getting heavy. Not only did he tear her down but he tore her family
down, and bullied your friends out of her life.
He diminished all their value in your life, as if they have never been
there for her. Now alone, it was only him. Now she no longer has any self-esteem. She was broken. The mask was painfully heavy.
No one recognized the woman with the mask.
Life had taken
its toll. Nearly defeated, hope was not lost she began to see threw the mask. She
saw herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman with the mask. Dark
circles surrounded her eyes where there was once flawless skin. Who is this
mask of a woman? Eyes sunk into their sockets from lack of sleep, stress and
worrying. She was no longer the fun, outgoing funny person whom everyone loved
to be around. Her smile had gone. Light no longer shined in her eyes. Barely
able to stand herself any longer, she screamed, she pulled with all her strength
to remove the mask with now bleeding nails. She failed but refused to give up. The mask
held so much, happiness, sadness, pain, hatred, resentment, scars, bruises and
loss. Every day she chipped at the mask. She spoke up. She looked him in the eye.
She refused to absorb his blows. His kind words fell on deaf ears. He was no
longer in control. It took a lot to stand up to him and even more to stand up
to herself. The masked woman is Me.
No longer
wearing a mask, I came to realize it was never me, it was him. It was all him.
He wore a mask hiding misery, a sad little unloved boy, and abandonment. He
didn’t love himself, he didn’t value himself, and he didn’t have anyone to love
him unconditionally. He was not capable of loving. He wore a mask to hide who
he was to himself and the world. He was a pitiful, lonely, broken, broke down evil
piece of man that had nothing but a mask to hide behind. Never truly knowing
love, because he never had love, he was jealous of mine. He wanted to take my
love from me. The love of my family, the love of my friends but most
importantly the love I had for myself.
He tried to
devalue anyone that ever loved me. He hated what my mother was to me, what his
mother never was to him. He was a jealous unforgiving person that never saw the
beauty in anything. Once I realized it
wasn’t me who was wearing the mask, he lost control. He became weak, resorted
to bully tactics such as fighting. It didn’t matter what he did because I was
done. My mask was lifted, and he was defeated. I walked away with nothing, no
gifts, and no kind words no sweetness, it was no longer needed. I left him alone
in his self-pity and sorrow, screaming obscenities at me, calling me names,
cursing me out and blaming me for everything that ever went wrong in his life.
Sad that this person who could be someone’s everything chooses to remain a
nothing. His every word hitting my back which was now a force field. I walked
away.
I refuse to
raise an excuse making man. A man that feels sorry for himself while blaming
others for his short comings. I want to raise a man that knows a woman love.
Some one that knows how to treat a woman, respect a woman, take care of woman,
cherish a woman, not just any woman but his woman. He will not be fearful that
she may be better than him, or make more money than him. He won’t have to show boat to get attention because
existence naturally bring others to him. He will be a God fearing man. A
confident man. A happy man. A real man. He will never be like you and I will
make sure of that!
Sometime, we put on a happy face to mask our sadness....but eventually,
your true feeling will surface. Best to deal with it instead of hiding from it.
Monroe Bishop
