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No Bad Masks: April Fool’s Day and the Disguises We Wear

I’m an older sister, and I like to think I’m a pretty decent one…now. In 1991, not so much. Just ask my brother. One April Fool’s Day I soaked his stuffed mammoth in the sink, put poor Woolly in the freezer, and told my brother the Ice Age had arrived. Then I became a therapist and will spend my career atoning for my past awfulness. 

According to historical records (i.e., the internet), April Fool’s Day has a murky backstory. One of my favorite theories is that the holiday is connected to the ancient Roman festival Hilaria, a resurrection celebration in which revelers donned masks and imitated fellow citizens. 

Whatever the true origin, the point of April Fool’s Day is to trick, to disguise, to conceal. It’s a day when playful lying is sanctified, when everyone is in on the joke, and when you have to remember to be skeptical of everything you see and hear. 

The first of April isn’t the only day of the year we engage in foolery and trickery. We’re constantly donning disguises as we move through the world. Sometimes we mask to fool others, and sometimes we inadvertently fool ourselves. My guess is that you already know this routine—someone says, “How are you?” and you answer with a cheerful “Good!” no matter how your day is actually going. Our social contracts depend on these tiny performances, and most of us play our part without thinking twice.

This type of pretense isn’t inherently wrong or bad. In fact, most of our disguises start out as a form of protection. Many of the women I work with here in Durango are high-achieving and accomplished. They were straight-A students growing up, or DEVO stars, or both. As a result they were labeled the “good child” of the family, and treated as such.

A mountain biker in a full-face helmet with mirrored goggles and a green and yellow long-sleeve jersey leans over the handlebars of their bike, with a blurred mountain landscape in the background.Our disguises offer protection

The high-achieving, good-student, perfectionist mask helped them survive in families that were chaotic, unsupportive, or preoccupied. And it worked really well at the time. Being “good” and “accomplished” wasn’t just protective—it also garnered positive attention and praise, and often became a stand-in for self worth.

Internal Family Systems therapists say there are “no bad parts.” I agree, and say there are no bad masks, either.

But what happens when a once-protective costume starts feeling bulky and unwieldy to put on each day? Wearing the good-student mask served you when you were growing up. But in adulthood, high achievement and perfectionism can slowly shift from helpful to harmful.

In Acceptance and Commitment Therapy we talk about workability. Workability asks the question: is what you’re doing helping you be the kind of person you want to be and live the kind of life you want to live?

Workability is a spectrum. When the disguise takes you away from your best self, fooling and masking becomes unworkable. I imagine there are places in your life where you suspect your facade is hurting you in some way. Maybe it’s not sharing how you really feel with your partner, or continuing to do something out of a sense of obligation, or not telling your boss that you’re overloaded at work. 

Noticing our masking isn’t about shaming ourselves or tearing off every disguise we wear. Our facades exist for a reason, and in some situations they’re still functional and helpful. There are days you might put on a disguise in order to get the job you really want, or go to a social event you’re afraid of attending. The goal isn’t to walk through life unmasked at every moment. The goal is choice—the ability to be intentional about masking or unmasking, rather than letting the costume director run the show.

A smiling person wearing a purple bob wig and intricate face paint in purple, green, and gold, featuring a decorative masquerade mask design around the eyes.Let's pick our masks intentionally

Noticing is an underrated skill, and it can sometimes feel like a “that’s all?” kind of next step. But noticing—with openness and without judgment—is powerful. So let’s take a moment to get curious about our intentional and unintentional misdirections.

Journaling Prompt: What Masks Do I Wear? 
  • What disguises do you wear as you move through the world? Is your usual costume the “always cheerful” one, the “high-functioning” one, or the “never afraid” one?

  • Where are these masks helpful? 

  • Where are they hurting you?

  • Are there places where the cost of the mask is greater than the payoff? (Where it’s unworkable?)

April Fool’s Day reminds us not to take everything at face value. Sometimes the trick is obvious—a suspicious advertisement from your favorite gear company, or a dinosaur frozen by your mean-hearted big sister. Other times the misdirection is subtler, hidden in the costumes we’ve worn for so long that they start to become our identity.

Maybe you’ve spent years being the capable one, the cheerful one, the strong one, or the broken one. These masks were useful—they protected you, helped you belong, or helped you succeed. And there’s nothing foolish about that.

A person in a striped shirt slumped face-down on a desk covered with notebooks, giving a thumbs-up with one hand while a laptop and desk lamp sit nearby, against a bright blue background.You don't have to keep masking if it's hurting you
But if a costume that once helped you survive now feels tight or heavy, it may be worth asking whether it still fits the life you want to live, or helps you be the type of person you want to be.

I would never suggest ripping off all of your masks at once. But perhaps there are places in your life where you might feel safe enough to loosen the buttons and ties of your costume. If you wear the perfectionist mask, is there a situation where you could allow yourself to make a mistake, or do something to 80 percent instead of 110? If you’re the “always cheerful” one, could you try telling someone you trust how you’re really doing?

Perhaps this April Fool’s Day could be something more than goofy Instagram ads or Saran Wrap on the toilet bowl. (Ew. Don’t do that.) Maybe it could be a prompt for you: a chance to notice the disguises you wear, thank them for their years of good service, and, where it feels safe and workable, try loosening one, even if it's just a little.

Sometimes noticing these patterns on your own is enough to start making small shifts, and sometimes it helps to have a guide. Therapy can help you explore your masks, understand their workability, and be intentional about their use. If you'd like some support taking inventory of your costume closet, you can schedule a free introductory call here. I look forward to chatting with you.