Faking It.

It’s been over a year since I last posted. In that time I started college, had my first job, learned new things, made new friends, grew as a person, and somehow managed to fall apart. All of these sound good, except for that last one. I got pretty good at pretending that I was not falling apart.

I put on a mask everyday that had the words, I’m fine, written across the forehead. For a while I was a pro at wearing the mask. I was a pro at being fake. I would fill my schedule to the top so that I didn’t have to remember that I was wearing the mask. I would get so busy that I started to believe that the fake version of me was the real version of me. However, the second I had nothing to do, everything that was behind the mask came rushing back and I knew I wasn’t fine.

Little by little, the mask became heavier. It weighed me down, and pretending to be fine was a gigantic task, but I did it anyways. It was exhausting. Soon, even keeping myself busy didn’t protect me from my own brokenness. The pain that I was feeling crept into my everyday life, but I still clung to the mask. The mask was all I had. I wanted to be fine. I NEEDED to be fine. And as much as I tried, something inside of me continued to break.

I thought that if I pretended to be okay, everything would be okay. I went through everyday thinking that if I pretended to be happy I would actually be happy. It didn’t work. How could it? Nothing was being fixed. It was like putting on a Band-Aid when your leg has been cut off.

For a long time, I have felt like I was supposed to have it all together. I am the daughter of the Music Minister and the Church Secretary. I was my High School Valedictorian. I am majoring in Religion. I’m doing all the “right things,” so why do I feel like nothing I ever do is good enough? Why am I sad all of the time? Why do I feel so far away from God when I live in a place where everything revolves around him?

Last week, I was sitting in Chapel, trying to keep my mask on, but I couldn’t hold it up any longer. All I wanted was to hide so that no one could see what was behind the mask. I texted my friend, Nycole, and she encouraged me by saying this:

“I understand that completely. It's tiring. You don't have to be fake. You can let yourself just be sad. It's okay to be sad or broken. That doesn't mean there isn't joy.”

I am blessed enough to have friends who understand exactly what I am going through. They can tell when, “I’m fine,” really means, “I’m sad and I need you to love me because I’m having a really hard time loving myself right now.” They encourage me, and point me to the one who heals brokenness and hurt.

So this is me. This is me dropping my mask. This is me acknowledging that it’s okay to not be okay. This is me realizing that I don’t have it all together, nor do I need to have it all together. This is me letting go of all the false securities that I was clinging to so tightly. This is me letting Jesus in to heal my brokenness. This is me beginning my journey to rediscover my joy. 

Lord, I cast every care on you. I’m broken, and I know that the only thing that can mend me is you. Please help me to cling to you in the good times as well as the bad. Please use this stage in my life for your glory. I’m a wreck, but I know that you can hold me together. Please shower me in your peace and never let me go.

Love,

Your Mess of a Daughter