Still Waters Run Deep Grounds
I’ve always been the silent type. Part of this is my personality, the other part is learned behavior. I learned at an early age that it was better to keep quiet in order not to unleash anger in my mother. Later in life, I also learned it was better to stay silent than to speak my mind. And that’s where I am today. But maybe there’s a small light glistening on the horizon ahead. Now that I’m making kinky friends, maybe things will change.
Silence is Golden
As a kid, I was always silent. I would calculate in my head how one sentence might lead to a topic I didn’t want my mom to know about, so I often decided it was better not to talk. I have a younger brother who would always demand attention. I didn’t need all the eyes on me. The more focus there was on me, the more chance that I would be scolded. I remember my mother always saying about me if we were going to the zoo or an amusement park: “Liz is always quiet, though you can see that she is enjoying it.” And so it was with many things. I would often go and read a book or write stories, rather than showing what was really going on inside me.
I remember a time when I saw an episode of ‘Flying Doctors’, and I was sniffling because it was so sad. My mother mocked me and told me I was ridiculous. Yeah, so much for showing your feelings. I decided it was better to hide behind the ‘good girl’ facade, always polite and studious, though never sincere.
Better to Hide
Next came high school. Of course, this wasn’t much better, but it wasn’t all drama since I did make friends with whom I was quite close.
No, the next time I really almost consciously made a mask for myself was while working in retail. I worked at a supermarket for many years, and I created a persona for myself. I needed it to deal with crude customers and rude colleagues. As a submissive person, I quickly learned to hide that part of me, else I was the one working all the extra shifts and doing all the annoying jobs. I got so good at protecting myself, that neither customers nor colleagues knew what to make of me.
I remember a time when two teenage colleagues of mine showed each other a video clip, I assume with sexual footage. They kept it hidden from me, saying: “No, Liz, that’s not for you.”
I merely chuckled to myself. If only they knew what kind of smut I wrote at night and what images I would look at online. But no, in the store I was sexless, prim and proper Liz.
So where does this leave me now? Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve been hiding myself for so long already, that I don’t know how to be just me. Now that I’ve made some kinky friends with the BDSM community, it’s slightly better than before. But still, before I say something, I think: oh no, I cannot say that that’s too sexual. And then when I do say it to them, it’s usually okay.
My interactions with my husband are the closest I get to the ‘real me.’ I’m honest with him, and I try real hard to be open.
And do you know who see the most real Liz there is? My cats, and all other cats I meet. There’s no pretense with them. They either love me, or they don’t. I can put on whatever mask I want, they’ll sense the real me anyhow. And with many neighborhood cats approaching us during our midnight walk, tells me we’re not such bad people. Some creatures out there do like the real me.
Maybe One Day…
So now what? I hope that with time, I learn to integrate the different parts of myself so that I’ll feel less need for hiding. I understand that I need a somewhat more polite persona when dealing with my mother in law or with strangers, but I would love to feel less distant than I do now.
I hope to accept one day that I have a dark sense of humor and of looking at the world. That it is okay to be submissive. That I can be quirky, nerdy, and intelligent, and a gushing fangirl all at once. Maybe once I accept these things, I can finally don the masks and show my true colors to everyone. Until that day, do not take me at face value. There’s a lot more to me than what I’m willing to show you at first glance.