I Lie

 

I lie.

 

Every single day. I lie.

 

I wake up in the morning and I put on a mask of make-up. I dress in my armor of my professional wardrobe. I fix my helmet of hair. Then I put on my brave, happy, professional face and walk out the door.

 

All day, I lie. To coworkers, employees, supervisors, friends, family. I tell them I am fine. I tell them I am having a great day. I tell them I am happy.

 

I say things like “I’m great, how are you?” and “I’m having a good day” or “I’m doing well”.

 

Because I am afraid of the truth.

 

The truth that it takes almost every ounce of my energy every.single.day. to put on this show.

 

The truth that I am crumbling on the inside.

 

The truth that I am barely surviving, much less thriving.

 

The truth that my family is broken and still raw from the pain of our son’s death, even after 3 years.

 

The truth that every month is a balancing act of paying bills and hoping we have enough to make it through.

 

The truth is that my life was forever changed on January 2, 2018 and I don’t know how to live the one I have now.

 

So I lie.

 

Because people are uncomfortable with grief and struggle and mental health.

 

Because I don’t want to always feel like I am the wet blanket.

Because talking about it makes it real and I am not ready for that.