I never thought I’d be an actor. 

I’ve lived every day of my life wearing a different mask — always finding a way to hide behind the smiles. 

Through all the hardships and grief I’ve battled, I’ve found ways to mask my feelings so the people I love don’t spend their time worrying about me. Even though I know the people I love care about me, putting them above everything — even myself — has always been the most important aspect of my life.

However, I didn’t realize what it was doing to my well being — both mentally and physically — until I saw it affecting my day-to-day life. I’ve lived for others and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I’ve had to learn the importance of living for myself alongside that. 

When my grandpa passed away, I didn’t know how to express myself or navigate through my grief. It was hard being in a room that lacked his presence, but helping my family feel a little less of that emptiness filled some of that hole. Even if it meant I felt it a hundred times more, in that moment, it was worth every ounce of grief I felt. It brought me joy to know that I added some light to someone else’s life or acted as a shield for them — but I didn’t realize what it cost me until I saw myself struggling to accept my grief a year later. 

Pretending to be OK isn’t a good habit of mine. My mind — like many others — has led me to feel it’s better for me to suppress those feelings in order to be there for others. It isn’t. Still, every time someone worries about me, my first thought is how much they care, but it doesn’t take long for that feeling of guilt to hit. That guilt consumes me; it makes me overthink every relationship in my life and everything people have done for me. However, even though the feeling takes up every last thought in my mind, that doesn’t mean it’s true. 

When I’d be having a bad day, my first thought was to smile through it, and “fake it til I make it” — even if it felt like someone was striking my heart from the inside. Now, I’ve learned how to handle myself. I know what I need and when I need it, and I have the support group in my life that provides me with those things — whether it is a hug, a distraction or just someone to talk to. 

Instead of just wanting to push through a bad day because I know people are more hesitant to treat me as “normal” when I’m going through something, I’ve now found my people who see me without a mask regardless of what I’m trying to put on. There have been people in my life who have treated me like a fragile package, while others have stuck around to unpack the box, making an effort to understand me and my grief. The tiniest bit of understanding has led me to being more open about my feelings and expressing my vulnerability. 

I used to have a pack of masks, but I’ve learned to let myself be the person I am. No mask can hide my copper brown eyes — the same eyes that darkened with sorrow and lit with joy, and the same eyes filled with memories that I’ll never get to experience again. No mask can hide the smile I’ve worn my whole life, or the way my dimples show in true, real moments of happiness. 

I put everything into those who I love, and I wouldn’t change that. No matter what I am on the outside, I’ll always love the same way — wholeheartedly and completely — but I’ve learned the importance of making room for myself on that list, too.