I was taught to be beautiful, no matter what I was going through.
A sacred ritual passed down—lipstick, clean clothes, perfume. Even in despair, my outer world had to glow. I’ve mastered the art of seeming fine.
High-functioning depression means I show up glowing—
even when I’m collapsing on the inside.
Because I was taught: no matter how you feel, look good so no one would know.
People assume I’m okay because I look okay.
Because I’m pretty. Because I dress well. Because I smile. Because I post.
But that’s the mask. That’s the part I learned young:
if you look put together, maybe no one will ask too many questions.
My mother raised and instilled in me to always show up looking good—no matter what. And so I did. Even when I was quietly dealing with depression, eating disorders, suicidal thoughts/attempts, a bottomless abyss of self-hate etc. I never wanted anyone to know. I just wanted to survive.
And now that I’m older that’s backfired. Now when I say, “I’m not okay,” people respond with, “But you look so good.”
As if beauty is proof of wellness.
As if pain can’t wear lipstick.
Not all sadness screams.
Some of it moves quietly—wrapped in silk, masked with laughter, walking through the world unnoticed.
High-functioning depression is being praised for your strength, carrying sorrow with elegance. All the while drowning in silence.
It’s shining bright, yet being invisible because you’ve mastered the art of seeming fine.
It’s exhausting.
The Wall
A woman staring at a wall
Holds heartships, big time worry
No memory on Wednesdays
Her equilibriums all tired out
She wears and tears the seeds of a woman
She’s been staring at that wall damn near my whole life
May 18, 2017
I watched the Nina Simone documentary yesterday and I have never felt more reflected. She is the most beautiful woman. Her rawness and vulnerable ways I admire. I feel myself. Pieces of myself I don’t recognize. I see that it’s okay to embrace the darkness. I’ve been living in a fantasy. Paired with the article I read about how unhealthy it can be to live a life in which one strives for positive thinking while ignoring and not accepting negative emotions. I need that rawness, but I’m scared I’ll go back to that dark sad space. So I bury that emotion and pretend to be positive. I’m finding all these emotions blowing up in my face. I need to learn that it’s okay to be sad, mad, and even angry. And to feel it. Feel it all. I need to feel it. Maybe that’s my lesson, to be honest about the way I feel.
I feel I’ve lied to myself in a sense. Using phrases like “everything happens for a reason” and “wabi Sabi” and Buddhist philosophy to transform my thoughts. Although wise; in my case, I find myself on auto pilot on the other side of the spectrum, lying about how I truly feel, coping with addictions. I think I’m ready to embrace ALL of my feelings. Come out the dark side, Mama wants to play. I want to get to know my dark side.
Freegrandmaa 