Some days I do everything I’m supposed to do. I get up, I get dressed, I answer the messages, I show up where I said I’d be. And nobody can tell I’m unsteady.
That’s the part people don’t see. It isn’t the days I stay in bed. It’s the days I go anyway and spend the whole time keeping anyone from noticing anything is wrong.
I smile at the right moments and say the normal things. Though inside, I’m counting the minutes until I can be alone and stop performing.
It’s exhausting in a way that’s hard to explain. You’re doing two jobs at once: whatever’s in front of you, and holding it all together.
I used to think getting through it like that meant I was fine. Now I think it just means I’m good at hiding it.
I’m not saying stop showing up. Sometimes showing up is the thing that keeps me going. But I’ve stopped calling it nothing. If you made it through a day like that, it counted. You don’t have to have made it look easy.
And if there’s one person you can drop the act with, even a little, let them see it. Holding it in alone is what makes it so heavy.
If today is more than tired, please read If it’s bad right now.
I’ll send the next one. You can leave whenever you want.
Other Notes
The part of me that couldn’t see it
3am
