Mask Required to Exit

First it was forgetting my mask. I’d get to a store entrance, see the mask sign, and then walk back to the car to get it. The only plus about forgetting was that it added to my daily step total.

It got worse. Apparently one of the side effects of my vaccination is I’ve become even more oblivious to signs. A couple weeks ago I walked halfway through the produce section at Kroger before I even thought of my mask. Luckily there was one in my pocket and I slapped it on before anyone noticed.

What shocked me the most, though, was my Speedway visit. I walked in, poured a coffee, paid, and walked back out before I realized I was maskless. I guess that’s why a customer gave me the stink eye. Either that or I had just emptied her favorite coffee pot.

So it appears I’m ready to move forward without the mask. Most likely, you are too.

The pandemic’s been tough, but we all probably have something positive to show for the time we’ve been cooped up. One thing I did during isolation was read a self-improvement book by John Powell, S.J.: Why Am I Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?  However, the jury is still deliberating on the degree of improvement because, for me, his book opens more cans of worms than a busy bait shop.

Powell says we all wear “masks” to keep from revealing our real selves. Only when we honestly reveal ourselves to someone else and they accept us can we know who we are. After I read it, I was inspired to go out without my mask and be my real self. But when I weigh the consequences, I see the improbability of my being totally genuine.

The author goes on to state that we each have multiple masks, which can vary during different times and phases in our lives. Probably my most important one is my “Mr. Wonderful” covering.

When we interact, I want people to think, “Now here’s a great guy.” It’s hard to breathe with this mask, though, because it has a thick inner layer of People Pleaser.

My dad was not one to worry about pleasing people, and he warned me about doing that. He told me if I tried to make everyone happy with me, I probably wouldn’t make anyone happy with me. I believed him, but how does a certified people pleaser give it up?

I need my Mr. Wonderful mask, even though it requires me to say yes to everything, even things I’m not interested in or don’t have time for. When I taught school, I chose extracurricular activities I enjoyed, but I also said yes to a few I didn’t. I think one or two people said I was wonderful. The only other perk was having so much to do I never had time to get into trouble.

My Mr. Wonderful mask reminds me to refrain from voicing an unpopular opinion. I can agree with the crowd and not make waves. I’ll be wonderful. Yeah, I know what Dad said, but I’m still hoping I’m an exception.

Best of all, my Mr. Wonderful mask gives me an excuse not to offer tough-love advice to a friend or family member who desperately needs it. What if they think I’m preaching?

I’ve worn my Mr. Wonderful mask for 71 years. I guess it’s remotely possible that someday I’ll forget it—but that thought is a little scary. Besides people not liking me if they really knew me, there are other things to consider.

I’d say no once in a while to something I don’t want to do, but that means I’d have to be willing to graciously accept a “no thanks” from someone else.

I’d voice an unpopular opinion occasionally, but then I would have to respectfully listen to one I don’t agree with.

And if I was bold enough to offer tough-love advice, I’d have to be willing to receive it myself without getting offended. Or, if I was, at least be thankful someone cared.

Hmmm . . . until I’ve had more time to pray about this, maybe I’d better put a “mask required to exit” sign on the inside of my front door. Being such a nice person, I just want to do the right thing and protect the other guy.

Feature photo by Demián Saborío on FreeImages