It was a most innocent Freudian slip that I made today. Following two morning cancellations with clients because the buses cannot be relied on when there is a lot of sudden new snow on the ground, I did see my afternoon client, who lives nearer to my place and I could get there walking (only two smiles-oops! I mean miles), and so I walked over the bridge, taking care with the slush, and we had a game of Scrabble in the common room of her building. She wanted to know how I got there, so I said, well, I left myself at 12:40, only to realize that I meant to say that I left my place at 12:40.
Or, perhaps I really did leave myself behind at 12:40 and it took me two smiles to walk there? So, by saying that I left myself behind, I could be suggesting any number of things. Perhaps I really am my apartment and I only feel safe to be completely myself when I'm at home, away from others, unguarded and more or less relaxed? To leave this government subsidized sanctuary that is rented to me at less than thirty percent of my monthly income involves turning into someone whom I am not, then, in order to face the horrible world outside? And this taking two smiles to get there would imply the need to put on a happy face, to freeze in place the mask I require to face everyone out there?
I don't think of myself as a phony and maybe the slips are really not at all Freudian, but just slips. Sometimes, a slip is just a slip. This isn't to say that I don't have to make certain adjustments to myself before leaving my place. Even in my building there are some very challenging tenants, especially the one next door, a very sad and tragic case actually. I can't go into detail about her here, partly because it would be unkind, and I could also get into trouble professionally, since she is also a client of the organization that employs me. Suffice it to say, she has a tendency towards aggression and I have found that it is better to avoid this person altogether, especially given the irrational hate on she appears to have always had with me. So we don't speak to each other, not so much as a good morning, which is just as well, since she might easily reply "What's good about it?" The last conversation we had, in August, she wanted to know why my back was wet as she saw me come into the building. I replied that it's perspiration, instead of that it was none of her damn business, and that it's a hot day, which means my body is functioning as it should. She tried to escalate, I wouldn't pander to her entitlement of being treated like royalty and then she let loose and bellowed, "Why do you always have to be such a fucking asshole!" I reported her to management, who at first made lame excuses on her behalf, so I went to upper management and it was agreed that this person should leave me alone from now on. So we don't speak, not even so much as a hello or have a nice day. (she would simply growl, what`s so nice about it) There is one other tenant in this building with whom I am not on speaking terms, an old Colombian woman just like the arrogant bitches I had to tolerate while in Bogota. Another difficult personality who has management wrapped around her middle finger (another Freudian. Oops again.)
The fact of the matter is that I can't leave myself behind. The person I take outside with me is the same person that I live with, perhaps just with a little careful grooming. Perhaps what I might consider is taking home with me the self that I am when I am away. That's right, the smile, the kindness, the good sense of humour and the patience with hopeless dumbasses. I could become in the safety of my home the kind gentle person I have deceived my clients and coworkers into believing.
Even my mask is real. I leave my apartment determined to give and be my best and to not inflict my demons on unsuspecting others. They are not as strong as they used to be, my demons, and I believe that through faithful prayer and spiritual and self-discipline that they are steadily weakening. Which isn`t to say that I have actual demons, as I mean this in a figurative sense as I don`t believe that I have actual demons. Yes, I do believe that such entities exist and, yes, I also believe in modern science, but that`s a different toybox and I don`t want to rummage around there today.
In other words, Gentle Reader, I can't even step outside the sanctuary of my little apartment without being confronted by reminders of where I work and the challenge of having to put my best face forward every time I step into that corridor. But maybe that friendly mask I have to put on is also slowly evolving into the real face. My real face.
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