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Fake Happy

Fake it till you make it?

By Francesca Blewett Published 4 years ago 5 min read
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For a long time, I saw myself as fundamentally broken, or damaged in some way. I was this thing, that could play at being a whole person. When in reality I was half a human (maybe less). For most of that time I wore it on my sleeve, like a badge. A sign that I was different.

Really it was an excuse. Whenever I failed at something, or someone didn’t like me, or I dated someone who treated me poorly, I blamed it on my inherent “brokenness”. Either in a way that meant I had been destined to fail because I’m incapable of the things normal people are capable of. Or sometimes in a way that meant because I was a sad, lonely person, I deserved less than others. People didn’t have to treat me right because I didn’t participate in the niceties that others did. I wasn’t a REAL person so I didn’t deserve to be treated as such.

I acted this way as a buffer. If I blame myself for every failure and issue ahead of time, it hurt less when others would do so. Being the butt of the joke, the one left behind, the “sad-sack” hurt less if it was something I did to myself. Isn’t that always the way? I self-sabotaged so many things in my life out of fear of real rejection.

I thought that this facet of my personality was inherent to me. It was mine, it was me. My broken pieces were (again this word) so fundamental to who I was that I never even tried to act like I was okay. My sadness was the punchline of every joke. Killing myself was framed as a humorous benign result of every mistake and inconvenience. Instead of the devastating horrible thing it would’ve been in reality.

When I heard the song Fake Happy, at first I was bewildered. Honestly the concept of “fake happy” made no sense to me. Why would anyone fake that? What would that accomplish? And besides, nobody did that. Everyone else was genuinely happier than me, they had to be. If they weren’t, well then why was I the only one walking around wearing my displeasure across my face?

Sure I knew that there were other sad people in the world. I wasn’t so narcissistic as to believe no one else was sad EVER. But I definitely thought that most people were actually happy most of the time. You’re supposed to be happy. That’s the default state. When you’re sad something is supposed to be wrong with you. Right?

This may seem a simple revelation to other people, but to me the concept of faking happy never even occurred to me. At first I thought about it cynically.

“Well, they’re doing it because they have to then. They all want to be likable and fun.”

To some extent I think that’s still true. But I decided to try it for a little. And I found that for me, it was a different situation.

My main discovery took a while. It started slow. I would avoid being self deprecating in my humor. I would play at being another, more pleasant person for others. I would say nice things and make small talk that didn’t involve my latest failures. I danced around my sadness in conversation.

At first, yeah it was exactly that “Fake”. Disingenuous. But people responded. They spent more time with me, they told me they were happy for me, and proud of me for seemingly pulling myself out of whatever funk I had been in. I found myself in more social situations more frequently. People were interested in me, and made conversation more often.

At first I was so angry.

I thought “why can’t they tell this is a lie? Why can’t they see I’m still hurting? And more importantly, did they love me more now because they think I’m normal now?”

Slowly though, over time I saw it. I had a moment in private where I made a mistake. And instead of being mean to myself over it, I did what I do when people are around. I laughed it off. I didn’t even pause and overthink it. I went about my business until about an hour later when I realized what happened.

That’s the thing about faking happy and being gentle on yourself for others. The more often you do it, the more habitual it becomes. Eventually it’s not performative anymore. You start being genuinely nicer to yourself just because it’s routine.

I’m not saying you always have to fake it, or that it’s a GOOD thing that people feel the need to hide their sadness from others. Honestly knowing that people were sad in a similar way to me, made me feel less alone. Especially knowing that not only did they feel the way I did, but knowing that and then watching them do things I couldn’t imagine myself doing. It was insane. These people felt my feelings, and FUNCTIONED. They weren’t broken or damaged. They were sad. And they had power over it.

In pretending I learned that I have that power too. I can’t always stuff down my emotions and play a happy character, but if I need to, I can persevere through situations I previously thought impossible. I don’t fall apart when I drop a glass, or trip in public. When I get a rejection, I might be sad, but I can maintain composure until I’m alone and feel my sadness there.

Most importantly, I stopped letting others treat me poorly. If I wasn’t allowed to, they sure as hell weren’t. I left an abusive relationship for one that’s fulfilling and where someone takes care of me. And that’s cyclical. The more I love myself, the more others love me, the more lovable I feel, and the more I love myself in return again.

You can actually fake it, till you make it. As long as you remember that “making it” isn’t perfection. Making it is just feeling a little better than you did before. Little by little.

humanity
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