Old Tables, Old Roles: The Masks We Forget We’re Still Wearing

karenmrubinstein
2 days ago
4 min read

I had coffee with a friend recently — she lost her brother this year — and as we sat there savoring a quiet moment before the holiday rush, she glanced around the café at the families and children and sighed.

“I’m the last of my family sitting at the Thanksgiving table this year.”

My heart ached for her… and, if I’m honest, for myself too.Because in her words, I felt the shrinking of my own family — the once-rowdy household of five daughters and two parents that has slowly grown quieter over the years.

Holidays hold joy, memory, tradition, and connection — but they also carry the weight of who’s missing, what’s changed, and what we try so hard not to say out loud.

And even with new faces at the table and some old ones gone, there’s one thing that hasn’t changed for me:

The masks I learned to wear before I was even tall enough to sit at the table without a booster seat.

When Old Tables Reactivate Old Versions of Us

Family systems researchers often describe holiday gatherings as “emotional time travel.”Walk into an old family space, and your nervous system remembers the role you played there — long before your adult mind does.

As one therapist puts it:

“The holidays can be a beautiful time of reconnection… but for many people, they also bring a mix of stress and emotional tension — old patterns resurfacing, familiar roles reappearing.”— Lily Counseling Blog

Psychologists also use a term called kinkeeping — the invisible labor of holding families together. And most of that labor falls on women: the peacemakers, organizers, fixers, caretakers, and emotional shock absorbers.

For years, the kinskeeper in my family was my second-oldest sister. She was the one who made the calls, kept the traditions going, gathered us, reminded us who we were.

But after my father died twenty years ago, she and her family moved out of state. And when she left, something subtle but unmistakable happened:

the center fell out, and eventually the family dissolved — like the suds slipping down the drain after the Spode china is finally washed and put away.

But here’s the rub — even if the family has changed… even if we have changed… the old table can still pull us right back into the old role.

For me, that role was the clown — the entertainer, the lightener, the one who kept everything “fine” by making everyone else comfortable.

And this year, I had a humbling reminder that the clown mask hasn’t fully retired.

She’s always lurking somewhere in the back of my closet —

right next to the rainbow wig and the shoes two sizes too big.

The Night the Clown Mask Slipped Back On

A few days ago, I shared a story on my weekly "Friday Flame" about something that happened in my NSA/NYC Speaker U class — a tiny moment that caught me by surprise and showed me that even after years of recovery and growth, an old role can still slip back in when I’m not paying attention.

I won’t retell the whole thing here, but the short version is this:

A single, reflexive "meet the Queen" curtsy — meant to deflect attention — reminded me how quickly the old “clown” mask can reappear when I feel exposed.

It didn’t undo my progress—but it did pop up like a Jack-in-the-Box: "SURPRISE! You’re still working on this!"

Our old roles are loyal.They return the moment we’re tired, vulnerable, or stepping into something new.

Why These Roles Return (Even When We’ve Moved On)

Trauma therapists call this state memory — the body remembering old emotional conditions and activating old survival strategies before the mind can intervene.

Your body remembers the role you played:

the fixer
the peacekeeper
the entertainer
the invisible one
the one-who-makes-it-easier-for-everyone-else
the WiFi troubleshooting tech

And the body whispers:“We know this place. Do what you always did.”

As George Bernard Shaw wrote:

“If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.”

The dancing is the mask — the role that kept us safe, or overlooked, or loved in whatever way we needed at the time.

And while we don’t judge that version of ourselves…we don’t need to become her again.

What We Can Do Differently This Holiday Season

Old roles don’t disappear — but our relationship with them can change.

Here are a few gentle shifts that help us stay rooted in who we are now, not who we used to be:

✨ Pause before performing.

When you feel the clown, the fixer, the smoother, or the peacemaker rising… pause.One conscious breath interrupts the old script.

✨ Let silence be silence.

You don’t have to fill every space with laughter, reassurance, or distraction.Quiet is not a problem to solve.

✨ Let other people manage their own emotions.

You are not responsible for controlling the room’s mood or keeping everyone comfortable.

✨ Sit in your truth — even if it’s quiet.

Presence is more powerful than performance.You don’t need to earn your seat with entertainment or emotional labor.

✨ Take up the space that belongs to you.

You’re not the child who once sat at the table; you’re the woman who has rebuilt herself.

✨ Bring today’s you to the table.

Not the girl who learned to survive by shrinking, smoothing, or making everyone laugh.

These aren’t dramatic transformations.They’re small, steady acts of emotional sobriety — the kind that gently rewrite generations of learned behavior.