Vol. 3: The Weight of a Concrete Mask

I’m doing things a bit differently this week. I’m speaking these words directly into my laptop, letting a bit of AI wizardry transcribe my thoughts. I wanted to remove the "barrier" of the keyboard and just talk to you, heart to heart.

Because today, I’ve been thinking a lot about the weight we carry.

The mask isn't just a costume. 

In the last volume, I talked about having a "wardrobe" of masks, costumes I’ve worn since the day I was born to fit into the rooms I was in. But lately, I’ve been reflecting on what those masks are actually made of.

When I got my ADHD diagnosis, I asked myself: Who am I without the mask? The truth is, I didn’t know. 

I’ve spent so long in character that it doesn't feel like fabric anymore. It feels like concrete. It’s heavy, it’s rigid, and it’s been set for so long that I’ve started to wonder where the concrete ends and I begin.

We don't need to shatter it. I used to think unmasking was a "click of the fingers" moment. You just take it off, right?

Now I realise it’s a journey of changing the substance. I’m not trying to smash the concrete, (that sounds painful and frankly, a bit terrifying). Instead, I’m trying to turn it into something flexible. I want to turn my concrete mask into something more like fabric, something slightly see-through, where I can finally start to see the world (and myself) with a bit of clarity.

It starts with how we talk to ourselves.

How do we start softening the concrete? For me, it starts with kindness.

I’ll give you a "silly" example that actually isn't silly at all. I struggle with forgetfulness. My coping mechanism for my hair straighteners is a rigid system: unplug, wrap in a heat-proof mat, put away. But even after I’ve done it, my brain demands I go back and check.

Old Sarah, wearing the concrete mask, would say: "Stop being stupid. You know you've done it. Walk away." That language just makes the concrete set harder.

Now, I’m trying a new script: "Your brain is worried because you’ve been forgetful in the past. It’s okay to feel the need to check. It doesn't make you a bad person; it’s just what you need to do to feel okay before you move on." Changing the language makes the mask feel a little more fluid.

The corporate "guilt" is hard to shake. I’ve found that even when you leave the corporate world, the concrete mask follows you.

I left my corporate role because I wanted to work with my ADHD brain, not against it. My brain doesn't truly "wake up" until 10:30 AM. On paper, I gave myself permission to start later.

But in practice? The guilt has been overwhelming.

Even though I’m my own boss, 15 years of corporate "9-to-5" conditioning still sits on my shoulders, shaming me for not being at my desk at 9:00 AM. I’m in a privileged position to design my own day now, but the shame is still there. I'm working on believing that doing what is right for my brain isn't "lazy" - it’s just good design.

A question for you... If your mask had a texture today, what would it be? Is it cold like stone? Heavy like concrete? Or are you starting to find those moments where the fabric is thin enough that you can finally breathe?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. 

Stay Square,

Sarah