The Power of the Mask

Written on December 10, 2017

Poised, Graceful, Wise, Mature, Well

All are words used to describe the way I was handling my sister's suicide. All words that I loved, yet loathed just as greatly. To someone grieving, I speak openly, humbly, and calm. To a friend, I let bits and pieces of my pain through. To my therapist, I hold back. To no one, I am myself.

I allowed myself to unleash every emotion I felt in the first two weeks after my sister passed. I cried so much the first week my body and head physically ached. I refused to eat, I couldn't partake in anything that would evoke even a hint of joy. I consistently lashed out on anyone who misspoke around me, and everyone allowed me to do it. I would pull myself together for a moment, a memory would creep into my mind, and I I would fall apart again. Every second felt like an hour, and every day, a lifetime. I was angry at everyone, I could hear my pulse and feel my face turn red at so many different points throughout the day. I became so disassociated with life.

I tried returning to work after a week, I felt that doing so would aid in stabilizing my life but I was wrong. As I sat in a meeting on my first day back, I was overwhelmed by how little I cared about anything. My co-workers tip toed around me, day to day problems kelp arising, it confused me that some people didn't even know. I came so close to throwing my laptop out the window so many times that week that I decided I wasn't ready. I was not helping anyone, including myself, being there.

For the past two months, my emotions were shielded behind the power of my anger. Every time I wanted to cry, I got mad instead. I felt like a child, but people are better equipped to handle a frustrated person than a tearful one. To this day I still struggle with my anger. My fuse burns shorter, my patience is slim. The only difference now is that I recognize it. I can take myself out of the situation and recover a little faster.

I project myself to be poised, speak honestly about my sister, compose myself in public not because I have gotten over my sister but because I care more about the comfort of those around me. Because Lauren would not tolerate me being emotionally unstable on her behalf. Some days I am ok, others I am not, but you would never be able to tell the difference.

What I want everyone to know is that things are not always as they appear. Many people, my sister and myself included, have the talent of the mask. Many people are oblivious to it and that's ok. But if you sense that something is wrong, speak up. Understand that time does not necessarily heal all, but love, patience, and compassion will.