Beyond the Masks: Finding Real Connection

Halloween always reminds me how different it was to grow up in the ’70s — when we roamed the neighborhood from after school until long after dark. It was a time when families were shifting from one working parent (usually Dad) to two, and we kids carried our own keys, letting ourselves in and out the front door. We made our own lunches, wandered through long stretches of unstructured time, and claimed the streets as our own little kingdom.

My parents were less than thrilled when I cut holes in one of our bedsheets so I could move about unseen — invisible, or at least free from the weight of others’ gazes and expectations. I wanted to watch without being watched. I wanted to move through the world without the ache of being noticed, but never fully seen.

I wanted to be free — anything other than the shy girl I felt myself to be. Free from the pressure to fit in or earn acceptance. I didn’t want to vanish completely, just fade enough to feel I was okay. And on Halloween night, under the glow of porch lights and the hum of neighborhood excitement, that wish felt almost possible — a small, delicious taste of freedom tucked beneath a flimsy white sheet.

Now, nearly fifty years later, as Halloween approaches, I’ve outgrown my shyness and come to appreciate my uniqueness — my ability to connect, to see and be seen, to stay curious about others. Still, every now and then, I notice a hint of a mask I’m wearing. Mine often shows up as being overly agreeable or quiet — letting people talk over me for fear of being seen as too much, too needy, too unlikeable.

If I named my mask, it would be Agreeable. These days, I usually catch it before it takes over. But when I’m tired or stretched thin — not fully resourced, centered, or grounded in my true essence — it can still slip on without my noticing. The trouble is, when I hide behind that mask, I lose what I most long for: real, deep connection.

Have you ever noticed the masks you wear in your relationships? The subtle ways we protect our hearts — by staying agreeable, withholding what we feel, or showing only what we think others want to see? Vulnerability can feel uncomfortable, yet it’s also the path to genuine connection.

If we want to grow, if we want authentic connection, if we want resilient relationships, we have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

At the heart of resilient relationships lies resilience within ourselves. It begins in the body — where life’s unfolding meets our capacity to sense, feel, and respond from a grounded, centered place. When we’re anchored there, we can move beyond the familiar stories of frustration, fear, regret, and projection. From that grounded presence, we gain greater perspective, openness, and heart-centered connection. We meet the moment fully — aware of what’s here now — and discover our truest options for moving forward.

Resilience is wholeheartedness. It’s not about avoiding difficulty but allowing life’s challenges to refine and expand us. Each moment invites us to pause, to notice our choices, and to step closer to what’s true. And when we do, our relationships begin to mirror that presence — becoming more honest, alive, and open to real connection.