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Living behind a Façade

Shedding the shell that is our security blanket will happen, whether you want it to or not.

By Alejandro MelgarPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 16 min read
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Photo by Alejandro Melgar

The life I have led has been one that has fed into my insecurities, rather than work beyond them or remove them. There are so many stories that I can share that highlight a time where I felt alone, afraid, or not able to fit in. But with my current life direction, the path I rest on feels just about right for this take, a feeling like a fish in the giant pond that is life.

I was a personal trainer for seven years, and I was involved in boxing for around 10 years. I loved working with people and helping them reach their goals. Boxing was also a sport that really lifted me up when I was feeling down, when I was feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere in this world.

The thing was, I was pretending to be something that I wasn’t.

I wore a mask, all the time.

I was “on,” all the time.

I was mimicking people, all the time.

I lived a life that was on autopilot, not able to comprehend the meaning of social connection in a genuine way. I was never good enough, so I put on a front to belong.

A front that was used to sell my services.

A front that was used to get people to like me.

A front that was used to get me to like people.

However, I was exposed one day, and it was enough to break me wide open.

I met a girl (what’s new?), and she flipped me up and round. She challenged my beliefs and values, and she saw right through me and my façade. In a way, it was nice to be viewed the way she saw me, as she said to me, “…you’re not like any personal trainer I have ever met.” However, I didn’t understand her wants. I didn’t ever think of dating a soul. I kept to myself and was too afraid to show myself to any women that showed a glimmer of interest; and the ones that did I found a way out, whether by feigning disinterest, or ignorance.

She was different though.

She was persistent.

She really wanted me, I think.

My act of ignorance wasn’t working. Me bailing on her was also not working. I started thinking, “Maybe she is the one?”

I grew attached to her. I figured, only someone this interested is worth the time to date and see.

I took her up on one of her many invitations to the bar, and we talked for a few hours. It was nice, and we weren’t alone. We were accompanied by other people we both knew. The mood was high, and I was feeling comfortable, a feeling I rarely had around women. I was a little vulnerable as well, even sharing a few things from my past that I never told a soul.

After a while, I suggested that we all go dancing, which she was quick to respond with an excited yes. We met at a restaurant in the middle of downtown. It was also the first time I saw her outside of gym apparel. My jaw could have broken against the concrete of the street. She was stunning.

The restaurant was dimly lit, with a beautiful dark décor, and dark wooden furniture throughout the place. We sat at a table and talked. A bit of flirting, a bit of sharing. It was alright.

We then went to the theatre that was going to be playing live funk music, which had a big dancefloor to accompany the musicians that played. She and I danced for most of the night, and as the show was concluding, she looked at me in a way I hadn’t been looked at before. I looked at her in a way I had not looked at a woman before. I reached in and kissed her for a few seconds. It was a nice feeling.

We later went to a dance club to dance the night away, but she got tired and left almost as soon as she got there. I wanted to go with her, to see her home, but she insisted I stick around. There were other people that we met up with that were still inside. So, I walked her to her cab, bid her farewell with a kiss, and went back in to dance the night away.

I started talking with her more. I was showing signs of interest. A couple weeks after that funk night, I went to her place after a few drinks at the local pub in our neighbourhood, and we got intimate.

I would see her here and there and have a good time with her. I was even invited to have dinner with her friends, all while watching the Toronto Raptors play during the NBA finals, her favourite past-time at that moment.

Things got weird though, it’s hard to explain, but I’ll try.

There was another man that she was friends with; a bartender from another bar she frequented. I ran into her one day, and she was walking with him. They were headed to a football game but were stopping to eat some grub. I asked to join them, which she was more than happy to have me.

He wasn’t as happy about that.

While eating, a topic of discussion arose, which called for a Google check. As I looked on my phone, I noticed the bartender place his hand on her thigh, and whisper something to her. She pushed him back a moment, but in a playful way.

I pretended I didn’t see anything.

Over the next few weeks, we would go to bars with some friends to keep watching the Raptors play, and she would spend her time with him. He would massage her shoulders at times, and they would joke around and share a laugh, all while I sat back and watched. They spent time together outside of that activity as well, whether playing basketball, checking out a comedy show, or enjoying a drink or two.

I confronted her over the phone one day, and she told me she isn’t the type to get into relationships. She was insistent that dating wasn’t a thing for her. It was her way of telling me that we wouldn’t be a thing, and that the bartender and her weren’t a thing either.

On the final game, we were all at the bar, watching the Raptors play for the championship. The place was crowded, and the TVs were blinking feverishly while the crowd stood and watched or sat in booths all around the bar. We were lucky enough to have seats.

I ended up sitting under a TV, while the two of them spent their time together, joking, laughing, and watching the game. I felt so out of place. I wondered what I was even doing there.

Did she like me?

Was she playing me for a fool?

Was I part of a growing selection of men for her to pick from?

The friends in attendance were all men, not a single girlfriend of hers was in sight.

I wondered: were all these guys here wanting her affection?

A friend of hers came into town to spend time with her and watch the game with her, and he got frustrated. He exclaimed, “I feel like we aren’t even talking and spending time together. I came all this way to see you!” She responded to that right away, stepped away from the bartender, and sat with him to talk.

I felt like a ghost. I started to stew in my silence.

I couldn’t even see the game that well. I was craning my neck to see the game from where I was sitting, but I wasn’t communicating this need to spend time with her or to watch the game from a better point. I grew jealous of her out-of-town friend as well.

The Raptors had the lead, and everyone started to stand as the clock counted down.

When the buzzer went, the Raptors won. They were the NBA champions.

Our table all celebrated by jumping up, high fiving each other, and sharing in the joy; however, it felt hollow.

I didn’t feel anything after they won. The reason for coming together had ended, and the woman I was wanting to connect with was over the infatuation she had with basketball for the time being.

She was over the infatuation she had with me, I felt.

I got up, bid my farewells, and left the bar.

We didn’t get together after that. She got really busy with work.

I kept trying though, and I would keep up with texting and calling her.

After a few months passed, I got tired. I felt like there was nothing more to our “relationship,” and I also felt I had pushed her away, which was something I did do with women, but this time wasn’t on purpose.

I called to apologize for pushing her away, for being the way I was. I then asked to talk with her over coffee, see what was up. She told me it wasn’t a good idea. I asked why was that? She said it was because of her boyfriend.

My heart shattered instantly. I felt a pang of panic in my chest. I was unsure what to say, but I went into autopilot, and satisfied my mimicry by telling her it was all good, not a problem on my end.

I decided to write up an email for her. I told myself I wouldn’t send it, only to use it as a method of closure.

It was a long-winded email, one that spanned my childhood to my adult life, trying to explain why I am so fucked up. Why she should take pity on me. It was an act of desperation, a pathetic one at that.

Afterwards, I went barhopping. When the Raptors series finished, I still wanted to drink, which wasn’t something I did before I met this woman, so I went out frequently to have a few beers, while reading a book at that.

I went to the bar where the bartender worked after having a few beers already. I was hoping to run into her, to try and talk to her.

I sat at the bar, and the bartender was working sure enough. I got a couple drinks and ended up chatting with the couple next to me about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. One was an elementary school teacher, while the other was an English major. I stayed for a long time, continuing to have drink after drink, even after the scholarly couple left.

I decided to send that email to her. I started editing it on my phone when the bartender asked me if everything was alright. I said it was fine, just sending an email. He was curious, and asked, “Are you sure now is a good time to send one?” I said, “Sure, it’s as good a time as any.”

I got a response the next day, and a text as well. I didn’t want to read them though. I was afraid that reading them would mean that was it for us. No chance to talk or see if we can be friends.

I left it alone for a day, but I couldn’t resist. After another night of drinking till 2 a.m., I woke up and looked at her text. It said, “Please do not contact me ever again.”

I looked at the email. “I’m sorry, but I am not going to read this email. It wouldn’t be right to read it with my boyfriend in the picture.”

I was broken up. My shell had cracked.

The person I was pretending to be was gone. It crumpled up inside me and disappeared as quickly as the breath I emitted on a cold night.

I didn’t know who I was anymore.

The person I was trying to be was a fraud. I was drinking heavily, which was unbecoming for a personal trainer, something I thought I had dealt with when I was younger.

I was focusing my attention on trying to get hers, so I wasn’t focused on my clients like I was before. I also stopped working out as much, because why bother?

I grew obsessed with that need for validation. Her validation was all that mattered. With her telling me to never speak with her, I felt alone. I felt the way I felt when I was a child, that all I was doing was disturbing my parents, and the people around me. To shut-up and never say anything to anyone.

I didn’t know how to deal with this feeling. I was in my apartment, alone, for a few weeks. I wasn’t going into work. My clients were concerned. My employers were concerned. After taking the time to reach out to them all to let them know I wasn’t going into work, I turned off my phone and laid in my bed, never getting up except to take a shit, or have a small bite.

One day, I got a hard knock on my door. “Hello, this is the police. We’re here to check that you’re alright.”

I was wide-eyed. I figured I should answer it.

I walked over to open the door, and three police officers were standing there, and one woman that wasn’t dressed like them.

They asked me if I was alright. I said yes. The woman that was dressed differently asked me some questions. She asked me how I was feeling, if I had eaten, or if I had been talking with anyone. I said no to all of them.

I was tired.

I wanted them to leave.

She told me a friend of mine reached out for a courtesy call, to see if I was alright. I was surprised, “Who did that?” I asked.

One of the cops told me it was a friend that I had known for nearly 10 years, and that he was waiting for me downstairs in the lobby.

I was shocked.

The woman gave me some information and said to call the number on the slip of paper she provided. She also said that she is going to make an appointment for me to meet with someone at this clinic in town, and that she would call me to confirm. In other words, I had to turn my phone on.

My friend and I went for burgers, his treat. We talked, or more like he listened while I talked. I was feeling like trash about my career. I felt out of place as a trainer. No matter how I tried to fit in and adapt to the people around me, I felt out of place. It was true what that woman said to me, I am not like other personal trainers.

I called the suicide line in my town after that. I called, and the guy that answered asked me if I was alright. It was at that moment that I burst into tears. I howled in agony, and screamed I wasn’t alright.

I felt alone in this world.

I was tired of pretending to be accepted.

I didn’t want to live anymore.

He did his best to talk me out of it. Frankly, I don’t remember what he said, I was still in tears. After a moment, I stopped. He asked if I was alright, and if I wanted to talk with a counsellor. I explained that I was going to go to some clinic to see somebody, but if I can book in right away, I would like to.

He found a time for me immediately. It was a few weeks before Christmas, so it might have been a busy time for the counsellors.

After over a year of therapy and other kinds of help I received, I started accepting my faults, and my failures.

I also started accepting my strengths.

I would hide what I enjoyed and liked all the time, because I didn’t think I would be accepted for them.

I ended up going back to live with my mom and had my sister and that friend of mine for support. COVID-19 happened at around this time, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that I was getting all this help.

I think about that, if I never got that help when I needed it, would I be at the apartment still, alone?

It’s a scary thought, because I didn’t have a lot of confidence in myself. I was also ashamed of myself for the way things went with that woman. I was also ashamed of myself for leaving all my clients behind, essentially abandoning them, and leaving an entire community behind.

I got the help I needed though, and I started viewing myself in a positive light. The resentment I carried for myself was lifted when my therapist said to me one day, after I went on about how I viewed the world and thought about things as some weird, faulty way of thinking. He said, “Your mind is human. And the way you think is one of the many ways a person thinks.” That really helped me see where I was at.

I was torturing myself constantly for being who I was.

For thinking the way I was and being myself.

I was punishing myself for liking someone, for shedding any amount of vulnerability, and for caring about another person.

I was tired of that though and started to work on my mindset.

One of the lessons I learned was affirmations. I would say things like, “Don’t screw this up,” “Don’t be stupid,” and, “Be normal.” I was so critical of myself when the only thing I needed to be was human. I needed to be myself.

I catch myself being overly critical at times, like when I say the wrong thing, whatever that means. But hey, life is all about learning and moving forward, but being overly critical of myself was setting myself up for disaster, because I didn’t give myself any room to move. I lived in a very rigid manner, so when I did the slightest thing against it, I would be shamed to no end despite it being so minimal. It’s like punishing yourself for eating a cookie when you’re on a diet. It happens, and the goal is to learn from it, not punish ourselves for it.

Now I practice positive affirmations. When I make a blunder, instead of calling myself stupid for it, I just say, “Well that’s a learning experience for you.” And when I catch my old voice telling me I am a fuck up, I rationalize it and catch the lie I am telling myself.

After a few months living with the virus that we know as COVID-19, I decided to go to school for journalism. I left my career behind, all my clients, and my old identity to pursue something new.

It has been a year, and I have been revelling in the learning process. Even though it has been online, I have been thriving and doing my best, even getting a 4.0 GPA. I was embracing myself and engaging in class as best I could. I never believed I had much potential or intellect for school, so I squandered it as a youth, mostly because I was never pushed to try; however, this time I embraced my thirst for knowledge. I was invited to attend the program advisory committee for the journalism and communications program at my college as the only student representative. It was the first time I ever felt like I can do something with my life. I didn’t have to go into auto-pilot anymore, or throw on a mask to appease the people around me.

I embraced myself and my curiosity.

I shredded my internal resentment and pushed forward.

I also forgave that woman. Not for her sake because I may never talk to her anyway, but for me to look ahead at the wonder of the world.

I am Alejandro Melgar, and I am a human being. I don’t need to prove myself to anyone.

Time to rest easy and look ahead.

Humanity
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About the Creator

Alejandro Melgar

Alejandro Melgar is a former fitness professional turned journalist. In his early thirties, Melgar has worked various vocations throughout his twenties, and is now cultivating his writing through fiction while continuing to write news.

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