If it weren't for the mask, every time someone asks me how I'm doing, I'd probably break down into tears. If it weren't for the mask, I'd smile much less often. If it weren't for the mask, I'd probably scare most people away. In fact, I'm not sure who I wear the mask for...if I wear it to protect others, or whether I wear it to protect myself. More often, I think the mask is there to protect me...it's fragile, and it must also be protected. If I were to tell people how I really feel, the mask would begin to crack...if I let the tears flow constantly the structure might weaken. And if I damage the mask enough, would I even be able to put it on in the morning??
Tim and I work hard to keep living...not just to keep going through the motions. We try to find reasons to be happy, and we try to make the world at least a slightly better place. But this is exactly that...hard work. It would be so much easier to simply succumb to the pain. Sure, it would still be exhausting, but the effort required to succumb would be minimal compared to the effort required to live life.
These last few weeks, I definitely feel as though I have put some cracks into that mask. I've allowed myself to feel all the feelings...the bad along with the good. I've allowed the tears to flow when I need to, but I've also smiled when I can. I'm hoping that these last couple of days of a much-needed break will allow for those cracks in my mask to start to heal...
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