The mask

There's always a crack in it.

I had a summer job in a factory that made car parts.

It was hot and loud. I toiled from 11 pm to 7 am. Not wanting to embarrass my dad, who landed me the gig, I dedicated myself to becoming the greatest factory floor sweeper of all time.

In fact, the whole summer revolved around rising from my futon, toasting something and then heading to the factory, where I’d don greasy overalls and earplugs.

Imagine my surprise when I reached work one day and my earplugs wouldn’t stay in my ears. Finally, I figured it out. I was still wearing plugs from the previous shift. They were crushed so far into my cranium, I had to tweezer them out.

Such was my dedication to the role as a perfect automaton.

I was reminded of that experience years later, when I finally took off the mask I’d worn as an addict. I used to think it was a really good mask — that I could blend in effortlessly with regular non-drug-addled folks.

The problem is I slept in that mask.

And it began to, well, crack.

In recovery, it took a lot of pulling and prying to get the thing off. It really hurt. And once it was off, I found another one I didn’t even realize I’d been wearing. And beneath that? Another.

I guess we all go through a lot of masks in our lives: employee-of-the-month, doting husband, devout daughter. And, of course, there’s one for the social media darling, whose life is perfect.

Such is life’s grand masquerade.

But at least, regular people can swap masks as often as they like. Like my grandfather, the consummate entertainer. When company left, he’d sink into his chair and sigh, “Thank God, they’re gone.”

Addicts, on the other hand, stay in costume. That mask is stuck tight. What happens when you pry it off? All those lies that will need untangling. The horror!

It’s no wonder I waited so long to remove mine. But once I did, the other masks fell away easily — along with the secrets and lies they once concealed.

I know we all wear them. But I’m hesitant to slip on a new mask any time soon. I like having a face that can’t keep a secret.

And I like not having any places left to hide a habit.