The War Paint We Wear

On a tram journey to the airport, I noticed something that stayed with me long after I arrived.

A carriage full of commuters sat with their heads down, lost in their phones. Then one young woman caught my attention. For a brief moment, our eyes met before she reached into her bag, pulled out her make-up, and began applying it layer by layer. As she finished, she looked into her mirror and smiled.

But it wasn't a real smile.

It was the smile many of us wear when we're preparing to face another day.

In this episode, I explore the invisible masks we wear, the pressure to keep going when we're exhausted, and how modern life can slowly disconnect us from ourselves without us even realising it.

Drawing on over 20 years of experience in mental health, I share why awareness is the first step to breaking unconscious patterns, rebuilding self-trust, and hearing your own voice in a world full of noise.

If you've ever felt like you're performing your way through life rather than truly living it, this episode is for you.

Knowledge is power. Awareness is freedom. Travel is living.🦋

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:12

Welcome to the Dragonfly Perspective. This is a space for seeing clearly through travel, business, and real life. We explore what's real, what's not, and how to trust your own intuition in a world that often pulls you away from it. These are conversations about awareness, discernment, and building freedom in a way that actually feels right. I'm Paula Fern and I'm glad you're here. Welcome back to the Dragonfly Perspective. I'm Paula and I'm going to share a story with you today of something that happened to me a couple of years ago. And it was the day I realized that the world was training me. Now, a couple of years ago, I was travelling to the airport on the tram. It was early, and it was one of those grey mornings where the world feels half awake. The tram was full of commuters, people heading to work and going somewhere important. People were heading somewhere they probably didn't even want to be. And almost every single person was doing exactly the same thing. They had their heads down, their eyes fixed on a screen, scrolling, tapping, consuming. The carriage was full, but it felt strangely empty. There was just no conversation. There was no eye contact. No awareness of the people sitting inches away from them. Just dozens of people physically together, but mentally somewhere else. Then I noticed a young woman. She wasn't looking at her phone, she was staring out of the window, and she looked really sad. Not dramatic, not distressed, but just really, really sad. The kind of sadness you recognise because you've seen it before. The kind that people carry quietly. And the kind that most people never ever notice. And for a brief moment our eyes met across the carriage. Just for a second. It was long enough to acknowledge each other's existence, at least. Then she looked away and reached into her handbag. Out came a makeup bag. She opened it and started applying foundation. Carefully, methodically, layer by layer, covering her beautiful porcelain skin. There wasn't a mark on her face. She had no blemishes, no imperfections at all, nothing that needed hiding. And yet she continued foundation, concealer, powder, mascara. The transformation wasn't physical, it was emotional. It was almost as if she was putting on a suit of armour and preparing herself not for battle but for the work day ahead. As I watched, I found myself wondering how many people do exactly the same thing every single day. Not necessarily with makeup, but with masks. The mask that says I'm fine. The mask that says I've got this. The mask that says I'm coping. The mask that says everything's great. When inside they're exhausted, overwhelmed, they question everything. They're holding themselves together with determination and caffeine. Then just before she put everything back away in her bag, she lifted a small hand mirror. She looked at herself and smiled. But it wasn't a smile, not really. It was rehearsed. It had been practiced. A smile she'd probably worn so many times she forgot it wasn't real. A smile designed to reassure the world. A smile that said, Don't worry about me. And that moment stayed with me for a long time. Not because there was anything unusual about it, because there wasn't. That's exactly the point. It was normal. Painfully normal. And maybe that's what troubled me the most. How many people are waking up every morning and putting on their version of war paint? Not because they want to, but because they feel that they have to. To get through the day, to get through a meeting, to get through the shift at work, to get through the school run, to get through life. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized something. Most people aren't struggling because they're weak. They're struggling because they're carrying too much. Expectations, responsibilities, pressure, comparison, noise. And somewhere along the way, they've forgotten where they end, and the world begins. Because the world is constantly telling us who to be. Be more successful, be more productive, be more attractive, be more available, be more positive, be more grateful, be more this, be more that. And eventually we stop asking a very important question. Who was I before all that noise arrived? That question followed me all the way to the airport and beyond. And it reminded me of something I noticed years ago. For over 20 years I worked in mental health. People often assume that taught me about diagnoses. What it really taught me about was patterns. Because beneath all the different stories, backgrounds, and circumstances, I saw the same thing over and over again. People abandoning themselves. People disconnecting from themselves. And people becoming so busy surviving that they forgot how to live. Most of the time it wasn't obvious. It looked normal. It looked like being busy all the time. It looked like constantly checking your phone. It looked like needing reassurance before making a decision. It looked like saying yes when you desperately wanted to say no. It looked like putting everyone else's needs before your own. It looked like living a life that appeared successful on the outside, but felt empty on the inside. The pattern wasn't always dramatic, it was subtle, invisible, quiet sometimes. And that's why it often goes unnoticed. Because the world rewards autopilot. It rewards busyness. It rewards conformity. It rewards fitting in. But awareness. Awareness asks different questions. Awareness causes you to pause. Awareness notices. And awareness becomes curiosity. Instead of asking, what's wrong with me? Awareness asks, what pattern am I running? Instead of asking, why does this always happen to me? Awareness asks, what am I not seeing? Instead of asking, how do I fix myself? Awareness asks, have I forgotten who I am? And that changes everything. Because you can't change a pattern you can't see. The moment you see it, you have a choice. And choice is where freedom begins. One of the simplest things you can do this week is start noticing. Not fixing, not judging, not changing, just noticing. Notice how often you reach for your phone when you're uncomfortable. Notice how often you seek validation. Notice how often you apologize. Notice how often you silence your own needs. Notice how often you perform rather than simply be. Notice how often you're wearing your own version of war paint. The armor, the mask, the smile, the role. Because awareness is like turning on a light in a dark room. The room was always there. You just couldn't see it clearly. And perhaps that's why the dragonfly resonates with me so deeply. People admire the dragonfly when it's flying. But before that, it spends years underwater growing, developing, transforming, unseen. The world doesn't notice that process, only the result. But the process is where everything happens. And maybe that's where you are right now. Not lost, not broken, and not behind. You're simply becoming aware, beginning to see things differently, beginning to question things you once accepted. Beginning to hear your own voice beneath the noise. Because we're living in one of the loudest periods in human history. Everybody wants your attention, everybody wants your agreement, and everybody wants to tell you what to think. Somewhere underneath all of that noise is a quieter voice, and it's yours. It's your voice, your intuition, your awareness, the part of you that already knows. The challenge isn't finding it, the challenge is creating enough space to hear it. So today I leave you with the same question that followed me from that tram journey. Who were you before the world told you who to be? Sit with it. Because the answer might just change everything. Knowledge is power, awareness is freedom, travel is living. See you next time.