I'm Fine. It’s fine.

I'm Fine

It’s fine.

It started as an answer and became a performance so practiced, so seamless, I never even knew I was acting.

The mask doesn't announce itself. It forms slowly, pressed against your face by a thousand small moments of making someone else comfortable instead of yourself.

It gives the appearance: she's got her crap together. And people believe it, because they want to.

But masks are heavy.

When it slips, no one typically asks what's wrong. They ask why you're being strange or why you seem mad or tired. And your brain, already exhausted, runs its calculation fast: explain, or fix the mask. Nine times out of ten, it’s the latter. 

Snap back. Resume your role.

The stillness after is its own kind of shame; not quiet, not rest. More like grasping for air while it appears everyone around you breathes easy, looking directly at you but never seeing you. 

This goes so far back, but now you realize what you thought was the “norm” was actually a kid trying to cope. 

The kid who always followed the rules. Who apologized for her “quirks.” Who no one had to worry about; she was already managing everyone else's feelings better than her own.

You learned early that your emotions were not acceptable. So you carried them quietly yourself and called it consideration. You believed that’s just the way it is. 

Safety is not easy to find, but when you do, cherish it. Even in safety, you try to manage it.  You measure how much of yourself you bring into the room, how much is too much, and calculate where the line is, so you don’t cross it. Those safe people are valuable, and you don’t want to lose them. 

Your brain is constantly playing tug of war.

Some days it makes you feel broken. Some days you see the beauty in a mind that works this hard, that loves this much, and that holds this much together. 

Most days, you see both at once.

It can be difficult to know who you really are. While you’re creating a curated version of yourself for everyone to see, you work to understand yourself better. That can be helpful as you grow, but also can create the thought that the more you learn, the less others know. 

If you feel like you are walking a tightrope with no harness, you are not alone. Reach out, open up, let someone care for you. 

You are not a burden.