All human beings crave intimacy. As infants we are born into an intimate relationship with our caregivers. This desire for intimacy changes over our lifetime, but never completely goes away.
Intimacy has enormous rewards and enormous risk. We have all experienced the pain of separation, so the risk of intimacy is well known. If you get close to another, then it will hurt if they pull away from you. The dread of rejection and abandonment can and often does overshadow our hope for the benefits of intimacy. A conservative approach to intimacy is the norm in the modern world. We err of the side of caution often avoiding even the possibility of intimacy.
Genuine intimacy requires openness and vulnerability. Our most sensitive emotions get exposed to another when we are intimate with them. As their tenderness likewise gets exposed to us. The extreme sensitivity of the human heart gives us the experience of both sweet pleasure and bitter pain. When we avoid openness and vulnerability in an effort to avoid the most intense pain, we also deny ourselves the most intense pleasure.
Intimacy is only possible with trust. You have to trust the other with whom you are being intimate. If I expose my most sensitive part to you, will you treat me with tenderness, care and respect? You must believe this is so before you can open yourself. Only time will bear out the trustworthiness of your partner.
There is a dance of intimacy. First believing, “I can trust you,” then questioning, “Can I trust you?” then believing again. This is the process of exposing and coving over of the heart. Our ability to connect, disconnect and then reconnect makes relationship possible.
When I expose my true self to you, how will you respond? Will you see me? Will you accept me as I am?
We often cover over our enormous sensitivity with the practice of role-playing. We take on a role, or mask that helps insulate us from hurt. Distance from our own emotional authenticity is not selective. When we cut ourselves off from our pain we also cut ourselves off from our joy. We become a little bit numb to everything.
We may act out a role to win the appreciation and affection of others. If we succeed in this endeavor then their attraction to us is based on the role we have projected rather than to our authentic self. We dare not reveal our true selves for our dread of the rejection that may ensue. Yet without exposing our genuine selves we can never experience the profound joy of actual connection and true intimacy.
Wearing the mask helps because when we experience rejection while doing so the pain of rejection doesn’t go all the way to our heart. It hurts, but not too deeply. Acceptance of our mask is ok, but it lacks depth. The joy from artificial connection is superficial. It is the act of settling. When it is better to lie a bit, and get a bit of intimacy, then to tell the whole truth and risk get nothing at all.
Eventually we are forced to ask, “My role, my mask may be loved, but am I loved?” Unless I expose myself, then I will never be loved. Even those who come close to me and want to love me can never love more than my mask. They can never reach deep intimacy with me.
“A mask reveals what it conceals just by the act of concealment.” We seek to cover over our most tender wounds of the past. Out most carefully guarded spot is our most vulnerable point. Yet the uncovering of that wound is the way to new wholeness.