{67} Transparency

My therapist’s farewell to me last week was a lot more meaningful than she intended, I think. As I left her office she cheerily commented, “Keep being visible!”

It was in reference to the fact that I had a bare-minimum of makeup on that afternoon, which is usual for me. But there was a thing at work where I needed to look “professional” which, for women, means war-paint: brows, lips, lashes, cheeks. I had the remnants of that on my face when I went to therapy.

I just don’t like wearing makeup a lot. I used to. By trial and error I have become fairly adept at the face-painting game, and can go from “power professional” to “morticia goth” easily. For one thing, not wearing makeup regularly has been great for my skin. (I don’t care how expensive your regimen is, it’s not as good as not wearing makeup.) But I also “go naked” as a statement about being a woman in our modern world: I should not be required to wear makeup to be taken seriously.

Of course, the argument is “that is how it is, deal” but…nahhhh. Many things we cannot control, but some things we can, and demanding to be treated with respect despite the fact I do not paint my face is what I can do.

Still and all, the result is that my blinding Celtic whiteness means I tend too look a lot like a House Ghost, floating around with my pale, plain face peaking out from all my black, black clothes.

My therapist’s comment, though, hit a chord.

I have spent many years of my life trying to be nondescript. That might strike people who know me as funny, because there have been times and places I tried to stand out with a loud fashion statement. Those times, though, were more about rebellion than self actualization — one is not the same as the other, even if rebellion can serve to help the road to actualizing your unique self. I was “acting out” like a kid trying on her parent’s shoes.

Being seen is not a comfortable situation for me. It means expectations, and rules, and vulnerability. Putting on an act? War-paint for work? Goth for the club? Sure. That is all well and good.

Being MYSELF? Knowing that people are reacting to who I am as a person? Scary as hell.

But maybe that’s really what my therapist meant, with that offhand aside: I need to keep being visible by becoming comfortable in my own skin.