Today I Choose to be Composed – The Mask You Wear vs. The Snakes in Your Head

There’s a difference between collected and composed. Collected is how you feel on the inside – whether your snakes are in line. Composed is what others see on the outside. It’s the mask you wear that leaves you serene on the surface even when you’re drowning underneath.

I learned this distinction in the 1980s, fighting my way up professionally when women weren’t highly regarded and attractive ones had a whole different set of problems. My very married boss, BC, had me in his office pushing me to go to dinner with him. I graciously declined six ways to Sunday until he finally got the picture – all while maintaining a pleasant smile to keep the job I needed.

Looking back, I would have lost that job if I’d dropped the mask. I did leave for another position soon after, but on MY timeline, to MY advantage. Still, I felt gross until I left. That was my introduction to toxic composure – the kind that protects your paycheck but costs your soul.

The Evolution of the Composure Mask

That early lesson in toxic composure followed me through decades. By 40, I thought I’d mastered the art, but new challenges required new facades. I was working for much younger internet marketers – loud and outlandish types who’d make requests like, “We’re doing DMT tonight. Can you please find 10 authentic Indian headdresses and bring them to my house?”

Bland smile. Quiet demeanor. “I’ll see what I can do.”

That’s composure in action – the performance that pays the bills while your inner voice screams about cultural appropriation and drug-fueled insanity.

When Composure Actually Helps

But I learned that not every persona is a prison. Sometimes composure serves a real purpose, protecting more than just our paychecks. When the FTC investigated my company and I answered questions for hours, maintaining composure helped immensely. I knew we were in the right, the allegations were incorrect. That composed exterior allowed me to answer honestly and correctly, leading to an unscathed outcome.

There’s a difference between strategic composure and soul-crushing performance.

The Surgeon Meeting: Two Different Stories

The challenge is knowing when composure helps and when it hurts. This distinction becomes even murkier when love is involved. Curtis and I sat in a meeting with his potential new surgeon for his reconnection surgery. Curtis was listening with optimistic ears, hearing what he needed to hear: “It’s possible.”

I was listening with authentic ears, wanting the whole picture. What I heard: Our only option was laparoscopic surgery through the stoma site and two camera sites – the exact method that failed during his original surgery, causing his near-death experience. Due to massive scar tissue adhered to organs, opening him up wasn’t really possible anymore.

Same meeting. Two different stories.

After, I maintained hopeful composure for his sake while reiterating there were different possible outcomes. That’s loving composure – wearing the mask to protect someone who needs hope more than harsh reality.

The Leadership Meeting Lie

If loving composure protects others, what do we call the composure that slowly poisons us? I face this question every week in leadership meetings, where I paint rosy pictures for morale’s sake. Instead of “We’re down 1.9 million this year,” I say, “June was a huge improvement over May!”

Blessedly, we’re on Teams with cameras off. I keep my voice lighthearted, but I’d rather say nothing than these half-truths. When the call ends, Curtis commiserates: “That was rough, huh?” I vent about everything wrong, then let it go. There’s nothing I can do about it.

This forced optimism completely exhausts me.

When Composure Shatters: The ER Race

We can maintain these exhausting performances indefinitely – until we can’t. My kryptonite arrives in the form of a phone call. Last week, Justin called saying he had chest pains, couldn’t breathe, was going to the ER. I dropped everything, racing to the hospital.

But here’s the thing – once I walked through those hospital doors, the mask went back on. I became their source of strength while my insides churned with fear. I maintained composure the entire time until it became clear it was likely a panic attack and they gave him Valium. Only then could I relax into being truly collected.

The October Shift

That hospital visit showed me how quickly I could put the mask back on. What I didn’t realize was that soon I’d be wearing it constantly, even at home. Since October, I’ve been wearing the composure mask with Curtis. Protecting him from work and financial worries while caregiving with a positive demeanor and fearlessness.

Before his surgery, he was my safe place to be completely uncomposed. We have a wonderful relationship – best friends, lovers, soulmates. He’s always been strong, someone I could lean on. Being maskless with him was absolutely freeing.

He’s being strong and resilient now, but there are chips in the armor. So the mask stays on.

The Cost of Eternal Composure

This is where the real reckoning comes. I wear the composure mask “in the spirit of being happy vs. right.” At work constantly. At home since October. Both situations have become true: people don’t know the real me anymore, and sometimes I forget which is the mask and which is real.

The cost? It’s tiring. (LOL – Mount Krakatoa. Just kidding, it’s been a while.)

If I could have one honest conversation without retribution, it would be with Al. I’d tell him, “Honey, you need to get a grip, focus on your company, and reel in your spending to get this back on track.”

But that mask is superglued on.

Your Composure Survival Guide

After decades of mask-wearing, here’s what I’ve learned about managing composure:

Recognize the Types:

• Toxic Composure: Protects your job but costs your soul
• Strategic Composure: Serves a specific purpose (FTC investigation)
• Loving Composure: Protects those who need hope
• Exhausting Composure: The daily performance that drains you

Know Your Kryptonite: Everyone has something that shatters the mask instantly. Know yours and have a plan.

Find Your Safe Space: You need at least one place or person where the mask can come off. If you’ve lost that, prioritize finding it again.

Track the Cost:

• Physical exhaustion
• Emotional distance
• Lost authenticity
• Mount Krakatoa build-up

Strategic Mask Removal:

• Start small (camera off on calls)
• Choose your battles
• Practice one honest conversation
• Remember: sometimes being right IS being happy

The Truth About Composure at 60

Hell yes, people underestimate what’s going on inside when you maintain composure. They have no idea about the $1.9 million loss, the surgery fears, the October shift, or the conversation you’re dying to have with your boss.

But here’s what I’ve learned: Composure is a tool, not an identity. Use it strategically, not universally. The mask that saved your job in the ’80s might be suffocating you now. The composure that helps in FTC investigations might be destroying your marriage if worn 24/7.

Real composure isn’t about perfect masks. It’s about choosing when to wear them, knowing why you’re wearing them, and remembering what your actual face looks like underneath.

Sometimes June really is better than May, even when you’re still down $1.9 million. Sometimes you need to smile through inappropriate headdress requests. Sometimes you race to the ER with your heart in your throat, then calmly become everyone’s rock.

But sometimes – just sometimes – you need to tell someone that honey, they need to get a grip.

Even if that someone is yourself, looking in the mirror, wondering when October will end and you can take the mask off at home again.

Join our community of women who’ve been wearing composure masks so long we’ve forgotten what our real faces look like. Share your most exhausting composure performance or the conversation you’d have if you could drop the mask below.

P.S. To everyone painting rosy pictures in leadership meetings while the ship sinks: We see you. We are you. June WAS better than May, even if we’re still drowning.