There are some among us who are incredibly good at hiding behind masks that they have meticulously put together for the soul purpose of showing the world they are okay. Not broken they whisper quietly as they don their mask and walk out the door determined to share a version of themselves that is acceptable to society. That doesn’t make other people uncomfortable. That doesn’t draw unwanted attention to themselves or have people thinking they are crazy. I am one of those people. Hiding behind smiles that do not quite reach my eyes and polite conversations that take far to much out of me. Hiding in plain sight, like so many other people that I know. When you have high functioning PTSD, depression or anxiety you get very good at hiding behind mask’s. Faking it till you make it. Pretending that you are okay, that you are not breaking inside. My mask is made of iron, the mask of a warrior, with strands of crystal’s and a touch of glitter dusted gently over, giving the appearance of strength with a touch of whimsy and sparkle. It has been carefully and thoroughly made so that I may hide away from the curious eyes of the world. The sympathizers, drama seekers and those who look with judgment.  I don it with hopes of making it through the days without breaking. With hopes of not drawing attention to the fear and anxieties I feel inside. With hopes that on those days the glue that binds is strong enough to hold the broken pieces together. A very real fear in my mind that someone might see one of the pieces fall, showing a glimpse of the broken that hides behind the mask. Take a breath, put it on. Don’t let it slip, hope and pray they can’t see the real you today.

To the world I am seen as a strong capable woman tackling whatever may come her way. Balancing all of the spinning plates with what seems like ease to those looking in from the outside. Laughing and joking along the way and making the most of the difficulties that I face. Most days now I feel capable of taking on whatever may come. Most day’s those smiles are genuine and the laughs are full belly laughs. I have developed strategies to ease my anxieties and calm my nerves. I have built a tool box full of different methods that I can pick and choose from when those shadows start to creep in around the edges. I have gotten very good at knowing those triggers, at saying no when I would have previously said yes and at being able to recognize and respect that my mind and body need some love and caring. Most of the time now I can tell when I am starting to spiral and need to take a break from the ride. Sit out for a little bit indulging in comfort foods, cheesy romance movies and quiet. Taking the time I need to heal and find my balance again. It wasn’t always that way though, there were days not very long ago where I couldn’t see how I was going to make it through. Days I couldn’t see how I was going to be able to stop myself from breaking into a million tiny pieces. Those days are getting further and further apart but I still find myself struggling. In the art of honesty I don’t know that these day’s will ever go away. The pain and trauma that I have experienced and that I still live through has left scars so deep within my soul and on my mind that even the smallest of things can throw those spinning plates off balance.

Some days come in and knock the wind out of me leaving me struggling to breath, those days my chest hurts and my mind screams irrational thoughts at me, I know I’m slipping down that hole to wonderland but I can’t for the life of me stop myself from chasing that white rabbit. My mind hitting fight mode before the other side of my brain can kick in and form rational thought. Once that fight mode is triggered it turns into a war that I fight against myself. That I fight with the thoughts that are running rampant through my mind. Skeletons I can’t shove neatly back into the closet. But my life doesn’t slow down, so I pick up my pretty little mask and slip it quietly on, ignoring those voices and the fear that grips me and tries to pull me down. I go through the motions, not feeling, and unaware of how I make it through to bed time. Surrounded by a fog that keeps me from connecting to the world around me. Those are the days I fight a little bit harder. I struggle through the pain and fear and regress to my long time friend the coping mechanism of not feeling, of shutting down my emotions so that I can deal and not break. Most of these days end with nights filled with insomnia, not able to shut my mind off, not able to keep the monsters at bay long enough to close my eyes and sleep, leaving me feeling exhausted the next day and irritable, short tempered and yet ready to get up and fight again if I need to. This is the struggle that happens when you are high functioning. When the world sees you as this great warrior they miss the days that you barely make it through. They miss the struggles that it takes just to get up and don that mask. People don’t realize just how often some of us can fight those demons in our minds. Even those closest to me don’t realize how hard I still struggle. How easily and quickly I can go from being fine to being “fine” to the outside world but total chaos inside.

Though I am healing, I am still living it day by day. Some days those day to day’s turn into minute by minute. I get up every day ready to take on what may come, with the knowledge now that I am stronger then I could have ever imagined. That I am not alone like I once thought I was, that I have an incredible tribe of people that are there when the days get dark. Knowing that my scars are not something to be ashamed of; I have earned every one of them, bled from them and am healing each one. I am learning to put those pieces back together and realize that there will still be days when I will bleed from the sting of a sharp edge.

Healing this wildflower one day at a time. 

Jessy Kewley