The Day I Wore the Mask Too Well

Prompt:

Recount a time when you had to project confidence, calm, or authority even when you felt anything but. How did this experience blur the line between your true self and the persona you’ve created for your role?

Sitting in my car, the engine hummed a low, comforting drone beneath me. Outside, the world moved in slow motion, every second dragging as I watched the clock on my dashboard tick forward. What am I doing here?  The doubt started to creep up. The all-too-familiar panic of everyone’s favorite antagonist: imposter syndrome. I felt trapped between the momentum of everything I’d set in motion and the weight of the mask I knew I would have to wear.

The hallway outside the interview room was sterile and quiet, a place where time itself seemed to hold its breath. I was handed a list of questions to review, but as I scanned them, the words swam before my eyes. I could feel the heat radiating from my flushed face. I’m not even sure I know all these answers. What am I doing? I forced myself to take a deep breath, but it felt like inhaling through a straw.

The minutes ticked by slowly as I sat there, flipping through the questions like a panicked student before a final exam. My thoughts turned to escape—what if I just walked out and pretended this never happened? But the law of inertia held me fast. I had come this far; the ball was rolling.

I was going to do it. I put on the mask.

The mask was my shield, projecting a calm confidence that belied the storm within. As I walked into the interview room, the mask settled comfortably over me, transforming uncertainty into poise.

The interview began, and I did what I do best—I read the room, matched their energy, mirrored their expectations. The mask was now an extension of me. Each question was a step on a tightrope, but with the mask, I walked it with practiced ease. When the interview ended, one of the interviewers walked me out and gave me her phone number, asking me to text her the product I used on my nails. I wouldn’t receive the offer for another week, but I knew I had the job.

That was the day everything changed. The trajectory of my career, my sense of self—it all pivoted after that interview. Each time I faced a new challenge, I reached for the mask. Over time, when I would reach for the mask, I began to realize that it was no longer there. I had forced myself to wear that mask until it became a part of who I am.

The day I wore the mask too well, I learned one of the most important lessons of my life: Nobody knows that you feel like an imposter unless you let them know. But I also learned something else over time, something that lingers in the quiet moments: When the mask becomes a part of who you are, you no longer need it. It then becomes your duty to give it to someone else.