Sometimes I think I’ve missed my calling in life. I should have been an actor. I’ve spent the last year and a half in pain, and most of the people in my life don’t know it. Alas, I would not be able to remember pages upon pages of lines, nor do I think I could act like it’s the height of summer when filming is taking place in the depths of winter. So, perhaps, I should leave that particular profession be.
In Ancient Greece, actors used masks in order to project emotion and switch between playing different characters. Some of the most famous masks are those used in comedies to portray exuberant joy and tragedies to imitate visceral agony. The actors could put on these painted faces of linen, leather, or wood and be hidden from the world, only displaying that one emotion to their audience.
Masking pain with a smile has become somewhat of a baseline for me. While I have learnt over the months how best to navigate daily situations to prevent or manage my pain where possible, it doesn’t remove the sensation entirely. Having sporadic bouts of pain consistently is exhausting, especially when it eats into my sleep, leaving me waking up feeling just as tired as when I went to bed. And I have found that masking has become a part of managing my body. Without it, I worry that people would constantly be questioning my health, my capability, and the last thing I want is to be defined by my condition.
Now, this isn’t to say I’m not grateful for that person’s concern or care. In fact I feel the opposite, I can’t say how thankful I am that they love and want me to be ok. But I think a part of me doesn’t want to feel like I’m boring or depressing people. Often there is little change between the last time I met someone and the next. And while being in pain is in no way normal, I think I’ve gotten so used to it that the sensation has just become a part of my regular life. My threshold for it has really risen and so often enough, while I’m in pain, I probably won’t mention it because it’s not as bad as it could be or has been. Sometimes I’m even embarrassed by it. That my body doesn’t work in the same way that most other peoples my age do. No matter how silly it may seem, I hate the idea of people thinking I’m a dramatic and self-centred person.
I can already hear my loved ones telling me how ridiculous that thought is (I apologise to them for that now!).
I know that masking is not always the healthiest option. Masking has allowed me to cope in many situations where expressing my true feelings would be too hurtful or overwhelming. I spend a lot of my day having to think about my body and what’s happening with it, so when I get a chance to be distracted then I want to seize it wholeheartedly for as long as possible. Masking allows me to do that. But it shouldn’t be my default. That’s something I’m working on at the moment, balancing when to hide my pain and when to just let my feelings be free. When to hold my mask tight to my face, and when to peel it off, exposing the person beneath.
People say that a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, I think a smile is worth a thousand emotions. No-one truly knows what is happening behind that smile. No-one truly knows how hard it was for that person to muster the courage to put that smile on. Or how difficult it may be to let it fall.
So today’s post is for those of you who are battling through with a smile on your face. I see you. You are doing an amazing job and don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!
From just A Simple Writer.
