The girl of many faces

Fierce, charismatic, sorrowful, wanderer, elegant. These are some of the few options that lie across from me when I awake each morning. Decorated in jewels and feathers and the like. Some shine like an abundance of mirrors reflecting light. Some are deep crimson with the slightest cat eye shape. These masks that I collect became my way of living during my lost days, the days of my chemotherapy treatment.

They used to hang on the wall of a near baren room in my home in Alaska. Strategically placed amid fake foliage that I had also hung on the wall to spell out the words "I AM." To be frank, when I began this decorative endeavor I was just following my instincts. Having no rhyme or logical reason to the design. My mother, thankfully, did not question as she continuously listened to my desired placements and accompanied me with this task.

Once completed, I sat on the bed and stared at the empty faces looking back at me. At first, I realized I had placed these in my guest bedroom and was concerned that if anyone stayed over they would feel uncomfortable. Particularly, I worried they would feel a sensation similar to that of old dolls sitting on a chair in the room while they slept. But then, a thought of woe came over me.

Who could I possibly have over to spend the night while I was going through these treatments?

I could not entertain. I was in no shape for it. Moreover, my immune system was compromised and thus I could not take too many risks with exposure.

So, with that thought, fuck it. My masks could hang wherever I damn well wanted them.

We as humans have this wonderful ability to hold thousands of emotions within us and compartmentalize those emotions. Reserve the ones that need reserving until the necessity arises to use them. I had found that I had lost the connection to this stronghold within me when treatments began. I did not realize this until I began the task of collecting and hanging my masks.

I found myself waking up everyday, walking into that secluded room, and picking out a mask to "wear." Just as if it were a jacket I could throw on before leaving the house. If I wanted to exude confidence and animation, I would point and stare longer into the empty slits of one mask with its extending multitude of brown feathers. Looking as if it were professionally created for the actors to wear within The Lion King Broadway Musical. Thus giving me the sensation of "I AM confident." If I wanted to disappear for the day and remain shrouded, I would point and stare longer at my mask of mirrors as I called it. Covered in various reflective material reminding me that when people looked at me, they would only see the space around me, giving me the protection to feel "I AM unseen."

These became my defenses against my own lost mind. These gave me voice I thought I had other wise lost. Now, they hang as intended, as decorative pieces.

I know that someday soon I will sell or even give away these masks. I am no longer the girl of many faces. I am Anndi. The girl with one face and many emotions that no longer control me or decide my fate. I am back and in control. I am back and can feel these when I choose and express when I need to express. I am not hiding any longer.

It will be bitter sweet to part with these that I have begun to see as comforting allies in my self re-discovery process. Yet, even decorative pieces have history etched within them. It will be a great comfort to know that a piece of my history will live on in their feathers and jewels.

Fierce, charismatic, sorrowful, wanderer, elegant. These, and many more, make up...me.

With hope,

Anndi