I grew up on a phrase.
Fake it till you make it and eventually you'll believe it yourself.
When you're sick act like you feel like a thousand dollars and at the end of the day, you'll see that you feel better than you did at the beginning.
When you're heart has been broke, laugh and you will see you won't feel so much like crying.
When you feel like a failure, ACT like nothing in this world can hold you down and at some point you'll see you can succeed even if you feel like you can't.
I have always and still do follow this pattern strictly.
I remember my husband and I had only been married about 3 or 4 months the first time he saw the fake it till you make it face. We were mid serious discussion, when my at the time 5 year old cousin walked in the room. My husband who wears his heart on his sleeve who couldn't tell you he's fine if he's not even if his life depended on it found this act to be an irritation. He didn't like that I could flip a switch and click not a soul could see anything was wrong with me.
As I got older, had kids, my husband and I had a mortgage, car payments and mouths to feed my strong fake it till you make it dependency kicked into overdrive. My acting calm cool and collected was what held my little world together.
If I'm calm, my kids don't ever have to live with a stressful environment.
If I'm calm, my husband is given an added support to his strength because I had this never faltering faith that everything always worked out if I just spoke it into existence. And he could have that knowing that I was always there backing him.
If I'm calm, nobody will ever see that I'm not really as strong as I appear.
I remember this spring when Daniel got hurt. We lost my income and quite a bit of his for quite some time. In the beginning I was able to hold my fake it till you make it "everything will work itself out" mentality. But as time continued on and things added up a bit more here and there it became a struggle.
Some days I felt like I couldn't even stay afloat inside my own body.
We would see friends, family, doctors, even random strangers who spoke to us in passing and anyone that asked how things were my immediate response belted out "we're doing great!" Big huge smile on my face.
"Daniel's doing wonderful, getting better everyday. He's doing so well at his physical therapy!"
"The boys are helping so much and they have been so helpful!"
"Baby is growing right on schedule, yes I am so excited for when she gets here."
What was really inside my head that was an itch I couldn't scratch as I was speaking?
"We're hanging on by a thread. Daniel feels helpless and is losing hope. His knee gives him so much pain and everyday he goes to bed angry that he hurts. He pushes harder than he should to get back to work faster because he's anxious about money. I feel like I can't even reach him anymore."
"The boys are trying so hard but with everything going on they aren't getting attention they need and are acting out. I don't know how to fix where I'm going wrong. There's only one of me."
"Yes this baby is coming. She was and is wanted but now the timing is so unfortunate and I don't know how to juggle everything that has to be done and pregnancy. I already feel like I'm depriving the children I have walking the planet how am I supposed to add another to the mix. They all depend on me."
"I'm not doing so well. Some days I feel like I want to pull my hair out, scream, cry, tell everyone in the world to screw themselves and leave me alone. Some days I feel like I'm not going to survive this. No I dont want to hear about how everything will get better, or how everything will work out. Right now I'm drowning and out of oxygen."
But again what's my response?
"It's going good."
Why? Because if I told my friends and family where my mind actually stood they would worry about my sanity. And I would hear more and more that all to annoying question "are you ok?"
If I told the stranger on the street they would probably run from the crazy lady with the messed up emotions.
To keep others calm I remain calm. Keeps my little world turning.
Does this make me two faced? I don't know.
Does this make me a hypocrit? I'd like to think not.
We all have a hidden being within ourselves. The being that's not held together that we never let anyone see. The one that is actually falling apart at the seams that is hidden by the reflection of the strength that is shining through.
Sometimes she does break. Sometimes she does demand an audience. Sometimes I have to listen to what she says, acknowledge that she has been heard and push her back down. She may be ratty and worn out and look twenty years older. She's the piece of me I protect. The piece of me that is fearful, vulnerable, insecure, unacceptable and tired.
We all have her. She's nothing to be ashamed of.
