The brave face

We all do it. Something happens, something is said, or something is  heard, a feeling emerges that you weren’t prepared for, you can feel the tears burn in your eyes and your throat catches. That’s when it descends. The mask. The brave face.

I have a Drama degree, my mask is well rehearsed.  But it’s wearing out.

I am missing the most important parts of my daughters life. She will never have these moments again. It is breaking my heart and my mask is slipping. Daily questiones of “how is it to be back?” and “I hope its not too much of a shock?” are no longer being met with the polite, “it’s OK”. The brave face is fading. I want to scream. IT’S UNBEARABLE. My darling daughter is fine, but I will never forgive myself for this time missed.

My mood has fast deteriorated and I have slipped back into old habits. Too much Facebook makes me paranoid and feel like a failure,  too little me time makes me loose my identity, too much time away from my little one breaks me.

She is my beating heart, and surviving without her is become harder and harder. Living my life on bypass is no way to live.  But what’s the alternative?

Its  time to reset the mask, polish it up and stick it on.

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