Masked

A mask is an article normally worn on the face, typically for protection, disguise, performance or entertainment. Masks have been used since antiquity for both ceremonial and practical purposes. They are usually worn on the face, although they may also be positioned for effect elsewhere on the wearer's body, so in parts of Australia giant totem masks cover the body, whilst Inuit women use finger masks during storytelling and dancing.^[1]-

-From Wikipedia

Summer in our town is either slow, or tentative.  Seated on a wooden bench under an umbrella, the sun and the breeze were great company.  The thermos of de-caf coffee had warmed my belly and my complimentary breakfast of herb-spinkled eggs sat in there as well.  Slowly, I am able to be in conversation with new folks.  My I Can Breathe Mask dangles off my ear like an appendage I slip quickly in to place if a scent triggers the put-in-place motion.  Today Pete and I had finished breakfast and a newly-made friend was quickly approaching.  She came to the bench across the table and sat.  We bantered with the don't remember your name thing for a few seconds, giggled at the social gamesmanship of it, and then had a good and neighborly chat about summer, sun, 'home', and then eventually the mask.

It's important, I think, to get a feel for how conversations from behind masks or conversations that start with the mask dangling to the mask in-place invite.  Rewound a few years, thick fear and defensiveness made masked conversations not only difficult but triggering experiences.  With illness bred from being safe only when avoiding, staying put to converse for any reason let alone about the illness or with a trigger (scented source) is risky business.  More often then not, I left the scene before conversation could sprout:  flee, not fight; flight then write.  Even when this masked one was able to converse, the brain chemistry and the memory needed to be calmed and refreshed before a place of ease returned.  This post is not about the science of masked conversation, though I weave in and out of the effects on a being's chemistry.  What is helpful to me, and perhaps to those who read, is the slow flowing comfort with social intercourse from behind a mask.

Picture this:  the mask I currently wear is 'decorative', black and green lace over a tan mask with carbon filter.  With my practice of living with PLAN BE, I have come to know the illness and the conditions for being in the public eye with a mask.  It has been seven years.

• Some of my hesitancy has passed:  I know I must wear it to remain comfortable.  I know what happens when I am without the mask, and know it's not necessary to tell the story of it all.  Trust must grow before a story is exchanged. 
•  The choice to buy and wear that lace mask was the Venus-in-me the love of pretty things that said, "Here's something pretty you can wear."  And, the thing that has happened for me behind that lacey mask is ... people approach the mask and say weird and wonderful new-to-me things:

'that's the coolest protective mask I've ever seen!'

'cool mask!'

'very decorative.'

I say, "Thanks, I think so too."

"I've heard about [chemical sensitities] but never knew ..."

With my mask dangling, I say, "Yes, what you say is sometimes true.  But it is unique for each of us ..."

I am more known to people at this Sunday morning setting.  There is some understanding and comfort with my ways of being, and I more comfortable with the limits I set.  People tell me about their experience with inciting episodes; an event triggers a change in a loved one and ripples out; because I clean the restroom I hear of others who might be like me, but not cleaning a public restroom.  Masks have been a source of protection, decoration, entertainment and ritual shape-shifting and in the everyday life of someone who heals from the affects of others' choices all those reasons for the mask play a part. 

Seasons of change are true for us all, tentative or late I suppose it only matters if you are counting on the change to plant your nature.  Otherwise, grow anyway.