Removing the Mask

OVER THE NEXT COUPLE WEEKS, ARTIE MORE HEAVILY RESTRICTED Smythe’s movements. Only Dennis was allowed to do the grocery shopping for Smythe and pick up her medication refills, and what errands Smythe was allowed to run were done in haste. Smythe’s usual dawdling marathon pace through the aisles in whatever merchandise store she entered now became a sprint. Artie even went so far as to personally pick up food from the baker, delivering Smythe’s loving notes to him and returning notes from the baker to Smythe.

Overall, Smythe took it all in stride. If this was the price to pay to keep her promise to Artie and remain out of WitSec, so be it. She stayed in her lane and rarely veered off course. It also helped that Smythe’s second conference was fast approaching, and her performance would determine if she would be certified in the tenets her mentor taught.

Each day, she coupled action with visualization. She reviewed the necessary material to prepare for her twenty-minute presentation. She wrote her script, memorized and practiced her group activities to drive home learning objectives, and then she visualized. She visualized delivering her presentation—what it would feel like and look like to have done so well. She visualized the clothes she would wear, the breakout room where she would deliver her presentation, and who the other participants were in her small group. She watched herself move confidently throughout the room as she delivered her presentation. Those actions she found contributed to her growth in confidence.

Yet, one morning, during her visualization, she felt the gentle touch of her Beloved.

“Do not seek to be,” her Beloved whispered. “Simply be.”

Smythe understood. She had just recently recognized that she was striving, and in her striving was becoming weary. Why does this have to be so hard, she remembered thinking. Here-now, in the midst of her visualization, her Beloved answered the query of her heart.

“It is unnecessary to demonstrate who you already are. Simply grow into the awareness and know.”

Smythe took in a breath. She was stunned at the revelation. Immediately, she understood that her striving to be something only ensured she would not be the thing she wanted to be. She realized in that moment of clarity that striving comes from a place of lack, whereas knowing comes from a place of abundance. And, in that knowing is a greater awareness of what she must do to grow into who she already is. She could only smile to herself and nod, making a conscious effort to practice listening to her internal GPS from there on out.

While Smythe prepared for her conference, Artie continued to deliver her weekly reports to the FBI director, but, over time, out of an abundance of caution, she began to withhold information from him—including Smythe’s daily movements or future plans for travel. She was deeply concerned that her security vehicles had been so easily tracked during the wedding excursion. She believed her security protocols were sound, and her teams were thoroughly vetted; therefore, she held a deep suspicion that a potential informant to the crime ring was coming from within the FBI. If her suspicion proved correct, she wanted no surprises during Smythe’s upcoming conference.

From Artie’s perspective, not only had Smythe been resolute in completing all of the requirements for her certification, but she had lived into the tenets that her mentor taught her. Smythe seemed different somehow; grounded in her movements. She slept longer into the morning, spoke with confidence, and made choices in favor of herself. Smythe, Artie believed, earned the right to revel in the company of her peers unencumbered.

Much like her plans for Smythe’s attendance at the wedding, Artie meticulously planned for the multi-day conference. She obtained hotel and conference center schematics and blocked specific rooms for Smythe and her teams, inserting members of her team into the hotel employee roster. Artie would be present as well, lying in wait on the opposite side of the curtain that would separate the larger conference room from the smaller conference area.

Smythe would be equipped with a tracking device in order for her to have greater movement, but, similar to her conference earlier in the year, she would be required to remain in the hotel. Finally, instead of driving eight hours to the new hotel venue, Artie arranged for a private flight to their destination. Her previous connections and agency’s reputation garnered her favor with a pilot who flew privately. Artie had provided security for a friend of the pilot a few years ago. After the security job, the pilot told her he knew how to mask the identity of a passenger into and out of airports, and would fly her to any destination she requested without asking questions. It was his way of thanking Artie for the protection of his friend. For Artie, it was an offer she rarely used, but her annoyance with the crime ring’s hunt for her client made the offer a reasonable one to employ.

On the day of departure, Smythe, Artie, and four teams boarded their flight at dawn and headed north. As Smythe entered the aircraft, she was astonished by the interior space, which looked more like a luxurious living room. Elegant in its presentation, the seats were upholstered in pearl gray hand-stitched leather with finely woven navy-blue fabrics splashed within the space of the cabin. Composite wood veneers were used throughout, providing a less grainy look often seen in luxury cars.

“Who do you know?!” Smythe exclaimed.

Artie grinned as she followed Smythe into the cabin. “It’s good to know the pilot.”

As Smythe sat down, she immediately noticed how acoustically insulated the cabin was. The external noise of the airport was dulled to barely a whisper. Once was seated, she was treated to imported coffee from the Netherlands and pastries.

“All we need are some malasadas from Joao’s,” Smythe mused.

“No time. Had I thought about it, it would have been arranged.” Smythe shook her head and stared out the cabin window.

After less than an hour and a half of travel time, Smythe and Artie arrived at the hotel without incident. Once she checked into her room, Smythe roamed the hotel “looking for trouble,” as she would say.

On her first day, she met up with members of her cohort and sat at the bar whiling away her time reacquainting herself with various people. She laughed easily and hugged often. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed the presence of these beautiful souls until their company lit a spark within her dimly lit heart.

Whisky had become Smythe’s go-to drink as she mingled with her group. Artie, who sat inconspicuously at the bar, stared Smythe down as she requested a second double. With an earwig in her ear, Artie reminded Smythe she had to remain alert.

“Joy killer. I barely drink, and after tomorrow night, there is no drinking until the final night!”

“Just need you to be on toes. Besides, I see a couple of women who seem to have more of an interest in you than before. Should I be worried?”

“No need to worry. Are you jealous?”

“Nope, just cautious,” Artie replied.

“No need to be cautious, love.” Smythe glanced into the wide mirror which spanned the length of the wall behind the bar and smiled. The mirror reflected Artie’s face, and she smiled back, raising a glass of ginger ale in Smythe’s direction.

The pre-conference reunion celebration lasted well into the evening. Returning to their room, Artie swept it before allowing Smythe to enter. It would be a daily ritual that would grind on Smythe’s nerves at times, especially on days where she would have to make a quick trip up and back during conference breaks.

“Seriously, Artie? It’s only been an hour since we were up here. Look, housekeeping hasn’t even entered the room,” Smythe said as she pointed to the unmade bed. Artie didn’t offer a comeback, understanding the pressure Smythe felt to perform well during the conference. As far as Artie was concerned, Smythe’s vocal annoyance at Artie’s insistence to sweep the room was an acceptable way to blow off a little steam.

Smythe’s investment in preparation served her incredibly well throughout the conference. While her mentor was pleased with her performance, the true payoff for Smythe was her internal sense of confidence while giving her presentation. She later reflected that she did not need to demonstrate anything to anyone. She simply needed to grow into the awareness of what she already knew. For the sake of her mentor—and her certification—she simply demonstrated her knowledge.

As the conference week began to wind down, Smythe had an opportunity to talk about her own life’s journey.

“We’ve had a wonderful week together,” her mentor began. “I’ve had the opportunity to watch many of your presentations. It was evident that you put in a lot of time and effort, not only to deliver the material here, but it was obvious that you are living into the tenants it—especially given your examples. As we wind down the conference, I would like to offer you an opportunity to come on stage and talk about whatever is on your mind? Who would like to start?”

Several of her classmate raised their hands, and, one by one, they went forward and shared. Eventually, Smythe hesitantly raised her hand. Her mentor made eye contact with her and called her to the stage. As Smythe stood up from her chair, she could feel her body begin to chill, and her palms began to sweat.

Why did I raise my hand? What will I say?

She slowed her breathing as she made her way toward the stage, walking up to a staff assistant who handed her a microphone. Holding the microphone, she suddenly felt breathless. This would be the first time she shared such a heart-wrenching part of her story in public. She watched as each foot landed on the steps leading up to the stage.

Don’t trip. Whatever you do, don’t trip.

Once on stage, she looked toward her mentor, who sat on a stool next to her, and then out to her classmates. She paused for a moment, taking in a long breath before beginning. Through tears, she recounted her experience of sexual abuse and her recent attempted suicide, as well as the reasons that drove her there. Her classmates sat in rapt attention, remaining quiet and occasionally reaching for tissues to dry their eyes. At the back of the room, every single staff member stopped what they were doing and listened in stunned silence. She understood the energy of the silence. After all, during this conference, she had portrayed an air of confidence, and during her presentations, she demonstrated her ability to teach. She appeared to have it all together. But then again, you never know the story behind the veil.

As she finished up her story, she handed off her microphone and allowed her hands to fall to her side. Her classmates rose to their feet and began to chant in unison with the help of her mentor, “We believe you, we believe you, we believe you, we believe you!”

Their thunderous voices reverberated in Smythe’s chest as each syllable shook the very air of the room. The walls of Jericho indeed came tumbling down, and something within Smythe broke loose at that precise moment. She could not describe the physical sensation, but something… something unhinged from her body and fell to the floor. Her tears continued to flow as she hugged her mentor and left the stage.

Behind the curtain stood Artie. And, with every clap of thunderous applause, tears rolled down Artie’s cheeks.

You’ve come so far, baby. So far. God, I don’t know if you are real or not. But if you are… thank you for her.

Artie wiped away her tears and quietly cleared her throat. After an hour, the session ended. It was time to prepare for graduation. Smythe rose from her table and left for the restroom, but was intercepted by many of her peers who voiced similar stories.

“Me too, Smythe. Thank you for sharing.”

“So powerful, Smythe. Me, too. Thank you for bravery.”

“I love you, Smythe. Thank you for your courage.”

Finally making it to the bathroom, Smythe took in a long breath as she sat in silence in the stall. It was a lot of emotion to take in, but she realized she could not dawdle for too long. A graduation celebration was next up, and she had to make her way to her room to change.

Artie met Smythe outside the bathroom, their eyes locking. Together they quickly but silently walked toward the elevator. Artie walked into their room. Slowly, she meticulously searched the room for any signs of intrusion. After a few minutes, Artie called Smythe in, and as Smythe stepped over the threshold, Artie reached for her and held her tightly in her arms.

“I know you have to get ready, baby. But I just want you to know how moved I was by your courage. As I hold you, I’m just in awe. It took a massive amount of courage to be that vulnerable. You are so much stronger than you could ever possibly know, and I love you. I love all of you.”

Smythe leaned back from Artie’s embrace, looking deeply into her eyes before kissing her tenderly. “I love you too, Artie. You are right. You’ve always said it—that I was stronger than I knew. Today, in some way, I finally understood that about myself. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share, but I felt this urging to raise my hand. To be honest, I fought it for at least forty-five minutes before I just gave in—I just wasn’t sure I had anything to share.”

“You had your story.”

Smythe nodded. “Yeah. I did. I just wish I didn’t—have my story, I mean.”

“I know.” Artie slowly released Smythe from her embrace. “You should get ready.” She took a step back and searched Smythe’s eyes. The frightened woman she had come to know was not staring back at her. Instead, someone new had emerged. Someone she was looking forward to knowing.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Smythe returned to the conference room and participated in the rest of the evening’s festivities. The next morning, Smythe, Artie, and her teams returned to the airport. It was bustling with activity and seemed a bit more congested than usual.

Yet, Smythe experienced a spiritual event sitting in the middle of the airport. She realized her demeanor was different since sharing her story. As she sat in the airport lounge, watching the myriad of people rushing to and from gates, she felt relaxed and at peace. She no longer held fear in her body, nor did she surround herself with an invisible shield.

She watched the throng of people move past her and began to think about them all with great concern and compassion. She recognized, or perhaps understood for the first time that everyone had a story to tell. She now experientially understood that the mask of a well-put-together life was only that—a mask. It was suddenly clear that those masks only hid fear, vulnerability, and the ache for genuine connection.

As she sat reflecting on her week, she recognized that telling her story on stage in front of people, many of whom she only slightly knew, shifted her perspective. Connecting the dots, she surmised that the telling of one’s story is the opportunity to become free from the chains of the limiting beliefs that would keep her hidden from the world. It seemed to her that as she continued to let go and speak up, her fear abated, and her sense of connection with others increased. The shackles of shame had been broken, and she felt not only connected to her cohort group, but to all of humanity—including her own biological family. She began to see through to a place of compassion for all of humanity. At once, the grime of her mirror was a little bit clearer, and she sat in peace for what felt like the first time in her life.