Blue in the Face

If one more person told her to smile, she was going to lose it.

She didn’t feel like smiling.

She felt like screaming.

It took every ounce of strength and willpower she had to keep from doing just that.

No one knew.

Not really.

They didn’t know how hard her life was, how much responsibility she’d been given at such an young age, how scared she was all the time that something really bad was going to happen.

She’d learned to keep one ear to the ground at all times, always vigilant and ready to snap into action.

Sometimes, she was able to head trouble off at the pass.

Sometimes, she wasn’t.

Either way, she knew how to deal with it:

By pretending that she was stronger and braver and much older than she was.
By pretending that she was in control and could handle it all.
By pretending that everything was okay.

In time, things got better.

The people who needed to do so woke up, grew up and stepped up, leaving her free to be whoever she wanted to be.

She didn’t have to pretend anymore.

But it was too late.

All that pretending had changed her.

She didn’t know how to live without her ear to the ground.
She didn’t know how to stop taking responsible for everyone but herself.
She didn’t know how to relax and trust that everything really was okay.

She got there, eventually.

Slowly but surely, she learned...

To let go of what she couldn’t control.
To take responsibility for what what was hers and hers alone.
To tell people nicely (or not) that she was never again going to smile and pretend, when screaming was the appropriate response.