People should smile more

Just fine, thanks.

Random person: "How are you today?" 

Me: "Well, before 9am I almost got run off the road on my way to work this morning, was flipped off by a complete stranger before I even had any form of caffeine and I realized when I got to work that I wore two different shoes, my sweater was backward for the majority of the day and no one said anything and I have to constantly fight my low self-esteem and pretend that I am confident when I actually don't like the person staring back at me and my insanely dysfunctional family loathes everything about my very being."

That'd be honest. 

Instead, I just say "Oh, fine, thanks." I know it's just a pleasantry. I know someone doesn't want to know the details of the ups and downs of my day or life. Maybe it's just me, but I'd rather skip this particular society-regulated pleasantry in the name of honesty.

I will never have it all together.

Earlier today, I read an article my friend Jenn posted on Facebook (http://www.chattingatthesky.com/2013/05/13/one-thing-your-daughter-doesnt-need-you-to-say/). Sadly, I could relate far too much, and in ways even worse than what this article describes.

I grew up in an incredibly strict, incredibly religious, Baptist household. Between the set of parents I had, and their interpretation of what a good "Christian" girl should be, I was trained to never let people see me upset. God forbid I allow someone to see me cry or angry. I was punished and yelled at when I wasn't happy or expressed unhappiness. Everything was always good even if it wasn't. And even if it was good, I wasn't allowed to be "excessively happy" about it for long. There were many times when I tried to confide in people in the church, but those I did, only told me that if I wasn't happy, my faith wasn't strong enough because God makes everything good and happy. Epic fail, church folk, epic fail.

There's something very wrong with me.

Between being in a religious family and being in a Chinese family, early in my life I had a constant pressure to be perfect. My grades, my looks, my dress, my attitude, my weight. I always had to be the fastest. I had to be the best. I had to be the thinnest. I got one bad grade in college due to health reasons. The anxiety of making sure my parents didn't find out was almost as bad as the financial anxiety of losing my scholarship. 

Clearly, this only got worse the older I got. Due to this constant internalization of emotions, I've battled depression for years. While I wasn't diagnosed until I was 18, I remember fighting depression, eating disorders, and self-mutilation as early as 12, possibly even earlier. I thought I was broken, I thought there was something wrong with me. I wasn't praying hard enough. I wasn't a good enough person. I wasn't trying hard enough to be happy. I was trying to be miserable. Everything was my fault. 

Yup. There was something wrong with me. It couldn't possibly be with everyone else. It couldn't possibly be that the good people in the church were wrong. Last time I checked there wasn't any spot in the Bible that required people of the faith to be happy all the time. It just isn't humanly possible. 

Searching for "normal"

Even into adulthood I still feel a constant pressure to live up to some unreal expectation that's been drilled into my head. I'll be 27 this summer, and yet I constantly feel like I have to be better than everyone and be a good example for everyone. But of what? Why can't I just be me? Why can't I be the sensitive girl I am while also being strong? Human nature is a constant contradiction of blacks and whites, why can't I be the same way? Life isn't the huge competition and pageant of "perfection" I was raised to believe it was.

Within the past few years, a close cousin of mine has struggled with some issues very similar to my own. Over and over I've reminded her that hiding behind a false smile won't help anything. Masks have to fall off eventually. 

Yes, I'm content

These days, if I'm sad, I'll cry. If I'm angry, you'll know. If I'm frustrated, I'll probably stomp my foot before figuring out what I need to do next. But nothing will make me hide that again. People who know my story have seen my transformation over the years and I've been happy to share my journey with them. People who find out my story, share theirs with me and thank me for not hiding behind some facade. 

"Happy" means something completely different to me now than it did even 5 years ago. Happiness is contentment. It's allowing yourself the possibility of being happy. It's fulfillment. It's knowing that you're being true to you regardless of the thousand different directions you may be pulled. It's not taking no for an answer. Happiness is being me.

Random person: "How are you?"

Me: "Honestly? Absolutely content."