The Mask in Motion

When the world sees a smile, but your soul feels the storm…

Do you ever feel like you’re spinning in a cyclone? Caught between work, kids, home, and the nonstop marathon in your mind?

It’s that quiet, exhausting merry-go-round we don’t talk about enough. The days—or entire weeks—when it’s a struggle to even face the day. When putting on a happy face feels like a full-time job. When muddling through becomes your only goal.

There’s a lot of “M” words in there.

Marathon. Merry-Go-Round. Muddle.

And of course… the Mask.

The Mask is the face we show the world. The one that says, “I’m fine.” It’s polished, put-together, capable. It hides the truth: that some days it takes every ounce of strength just to roll out of bed and—let’s be honest—even take a shower.

You slip into the first conference call of the day, slide on the Mask without even thinking, and push through. Until it’s 5… or 6… or, in my case, often after 7. Only then do you start to peel it off. Only then does your mind get a sliver of silence. A pause. A breath.

Working from home? It’s both a gift and a curse. The switch from “work you” to “mom you” happens in seconds—but the stress? It lingers. Like a bad perfume sample at the mall, it clings. You need to wash it off, mentally and literally. Ironically, the shower that once started my day has now become the thing that ends it—a personal ritual of release.

But then there are those other days.

The ones that turn into funk-filled marathons. When even the idea of showering feels Herculean. When you collapse after work, eyes barely open, and the Mask never really comes off—it just stays, stuck to your skin, wrapped around your exhaustion.

We don’t talk about that version of the Mask. The one that’s less makeup and more… armor. The one that keeps you from breaking down. The one you wear in silence, afraid someone might label you weak, dramatic, or worse—unstable.

Here’s the truth I didn’t know for a long time: I’m not alone. You’re not alone. The Funk doesn’t discriminate. It creeps in without warning. Some days you just wake up and everything feels heavier. Mundane tasks feel like mountains. The simple act of showering feels like swimming across the Atlantic. So you put it off. Then tomorrow becomes Wednesday… and suddenly, you’re trying to remember the last time you washed your hair. (Spoiler: you can’t.)

Lucky for me, my husband has no sense of smell. (Truly. Too many sinus meds in the ‘90s. Long story.) I could smell like a five-day-old banana and he’d never know. But even better—he knows me. After more than a decade of marriage, he sees the Funk before I do. He doesn’t fix it. He doesn’t force it. He just accepts me. He listens—sometimes without a word—and somehow, that’s all it takes.

And then one day, the sun comes out.

You wake up, hop in the shower without dread, and suddenly there’s a bounce in your step. The weight is gone. The air feels different. You feel different. The Funk fades. And the Mask? It’s not your shield anymore. It’s just a little foundation, some blush, maybe a swipe of mascara. A reflection in the mirror that makes you smile.

And it whispers, “You’ve got this.”

And you know what? You do.

We all do. Even when we feel like we don’t.

So let the Funk come when it must. Let the storm roll through. Just remember: storms always pass. And if you surround yourself with the right people, the ones who hold space for your silence, who see you even behind the Mask… you’ll weather it.

Because the forecast always changes.

And that’s okay.