The horror of the face masks

Every time, when I see news about making the use of face masks mandatory in more and more spaces, I panic, and I get anxious. I instinctively feel that wearing a mask whenever I want to go out would be a trigger for my own traumatic reactions. But I didn't understand why.

Now I think I have a better idea. With the mask the health crisis comes to my body, that is, the crisis (and the state) impose something on me that has to do with my body. A body not respected with its limits in my childhood and adolescence, that is, during the first 20 years of my life. A body, which has suffered repeated invasions into its intimate space for 20 years, and possibly abuse. A violated body. For me, the masks feel like an invasion, a violation of my body, and not a protection. Again, no respect for my body, no respect for my intimate space, no respect for me.

News like this, the prospect of having to wear masks outside my house, causes me a lot of anxiety. Thoughts of suicide come again. I can't handle another invasion, another violation of my body.

This is not to say that I don't rationally understand why. I don't share it, at least not to the level of obligation, but I can understand the reasons. But understanding does not change how I feel: the violation of my body, the invasion into my intimate space. The mask leads me directly to the trauma of my childhood and adolescence, as it enters my intimate space.

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