With a Broken Heart: I Can...

Being the eldest child comes with unspoken rules and responsibilities that shape you in ways few can understand. You become the mediator, the caregiver, the bonus parent, and the protector. You let your little sisters play in your room with your special toys and host makeup parties to shield them from the harsh realities of your parents' fights. You turn on music and jump on the bed to drown out your mother’s sobs as she pleads with your grandpa not to end his life. You silently take on the responsibility of fixing your parents' marriage, reading books on adult problems long before you even understood them yourself.

Masking your feelings becomes second nature because you never felt you had the option to let your guard down. The shower becomes your sanctuary, where you cry with water so hot it turns your skin bright red, hoping to cover up any signs of your tears if anyone walks in. You learn to have quiet panic attacks beneath the covers, not knowing what they are but fearing that your heart is dying. You become adept at switching from uncontrollable crying to instant happiness, dancing, and being the life of the party. Wearing the mask of certainty and happiness becomes as involuntary as breathing.

As you get older, you start to resent everyone for never seeing through the mask, for not recognizing that you are not okay. Then one day when you're in therapy, your therapist’s question, asking what created pain this week catches you off guard. You laugh and make jokes, deflecting as usual because you’re not used to your feelings having space. Then your therapist says, “I see you.” Those three words pierce so sharply you're not sure what to do with them. "I see you." I wonder if therapists ever truly know the impact of their words. My whole life, I have yearned for someone to see how I truly feel, and when someone finally did, I didn’t know what to do with it. It felt so foreign it made me sick, but yet I craved a space to be safe enough to expose my true feelings. When I finally found it, it wasn’t enough. Now that I have had a taste of what it feels like to create a space for me to feel and be present, I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I want to feel happy, angry, and sad. I want to build on my friendships and allow myself to depend on others, but I don’t know how.

So, to anyone reading this who feels like they are merely "faking it," know that you are not alone. Your strength is in your ability to keep going, to smile through the tears, and to live with a broken heart. You are good, even when you feel miserable, and nobody truly knows the battles you fight every day. Keep going and when someone finally sees you, let them. Allow yourself to feel, to heal, and to be seen for the beautiful, resilient soul that you are.

Enjoy this never-finished piece of art inspired by this song: