"Real" Life Hurts

People say a picture is worth a thousand words, and I would agree. However, oftentimes we judge a picture based on the 0.3 second glance we give it. At first, you may see a happy and joyful mother and daughter enjoying their time on the ocean. With just a quick glance, it looks as though my life is on the up and up. It might appear that I am filled with glee. I may seem as though I have everything put together. I am the strong leader. I am the faithful follower. I am the caring friend, the shoulder to cry on, the one you can depend on.

That's a mask I was wearing for many years.

I was always giving, giving, giving. Never truly asked for anything in return, tried to decline help when offered. I didn't need it. I was strong enough to handle anything thrown my way on my own. I was raised that if you wanted something, you chased it. Worked hard for it. Earned it. I was respected, sought after for help, needed.

In reality, I was hurting. My foundation was shattered. Everything I knew was falling apart. Every attempt I made to piece it back together failed, it would only make things worse. Nothing was working. My family split. My brother moved out. I struggled between father and mother. My father even admitted to me once that he didn't know if he truly loved me. My friends seemed so distant. No one was asking for my help anymore, and that went on for a while.

Then, I sucked it up, shoved it all down, and smiled again. I plastered on a mask that showed I was fine! I was okay! I'm back to normal! Everything is fine now, I'm just peachy. No rain clouds here! My meltdown days and bad grades were over, and I was back on the up and up! High school was about to start, and I had been accepted into an Early College High School that requires 90's or higher to pass in each class. I was pushing back against this heartache, or so it seemed. Deep down, everything I had bottled up and hidden away was festering. It was an opened wound with dirt riddled within. Every day that I ignored it, the infection spread. It was a slow, steady sickness, never really rearing up much. When it did, it was dealt with, but not fully. You don't slap a bandaid on a GSW and call it a day, and yet that is what I was doing. A hole had formed in my heart, and I was simply slapping an adhesive patch over it.

Now, I've graduated college, moved back home, and I started mending that wound. I was rekindling relationships that had fallen away, especially with my father. I would have lunch with him once a week, and we finally started having a healthy relationship. I would get a chance to visit my brother and his kids nearly once a week as well. It finally looked like the redemption arc for my family was in full swing. With the holidays closing in, I felt like it was going to be the best year ever.

Then one day, I got a text. That text led to a phone call the next morning, which caused the infection I had been neglecting to crawl out of the abyss like the monster it had become. Fear, anxiety, depression, hurt, anger, and a conglomeration of other emotions slammed against me all at once. The tears finally fall, and they fall non-stop. Everything I had finally put back together, the stable foundation I had carefully reconstructed shattered beneath my feet. Only dust remained. My father left, leaving no trail to show where, and my heart was shattered.

I couldn't keep the mask on anymore.

Finally, I let it all out. All my anger, all the frustration, all the hurt, pain, heartache, and disappointment. Everyone around me was now seeing the real me, and that led to even more fear. "What if they didn't like me anymore? What if this negativity pushes them away? What if I end up alone again?" Out of this fear, I pushed others away. I couldn't deal with that heartache again.

And yet, my phone buzzed. Again, and again. My friends would check-in, call or text, and make sure I was okay. The sister I wish I had called me up and offered me a free ticket to a waterpark on her birthday, then to Ren Fest as well. She helped lift my spirits and showed me that we all go through tough spots, but hiding away doesn't solve it. My mask was off, and the tears were evident, but no one left me because of it. In fact, more people were around me. I found a new family that was there for me, through thick and thin. I'm not saying my wound is fully healed. There is too much trauma deep within that hole to be dealt with in only a month, but the infection is slowly being treated properly for once. It does flare up every once in a while, and I find my knee-jerk reaction is to slap that mask back on, pretend everything is okay.

But now there are multiple hands that stop me from doing so, including my own.

I will no longer hide my true self, whether it be hurting or joyful. I will be who I am always, no matter the circumstances. Sometimes, it might hurt more, but in the long game of life, it's always the better choice.