- Always smile
Everyone has a ‘neutral face,’ a face that, while relaxing, doesn’t really show emotion or reaction because they are spacing out or not paying attention. Well, I have something that is called, in better terms, “Resting dog face” which, basically, just makes it look like I’m angry when in all reality I’m just thinking. Not fun. Often when I’m zoning out, someone will ask, “Are you okay?” Them thinking I was upset about something. When I was younger it was a lot more common, so naturally I came to the conclusion that, “Never again would I hear someone ask that question! I was going to always smile!” It had been a little while when I finally started to notice something, I had been snapping at everyone I knew! Friends, family, even myself! I had been so easy to anger or upset and no one knew why. I realized I was using so much effort to smile and try to look happy when, put simply, I wasn’t. While trying to look happy, I had taken away my ability to be happy. After realizing that, I stopped smiling all the time, only smiling when I was actually happy, which is actually pretty often. But, sadly, it did leave a mark on my life, now some family think I’m upset when I’m not smiling. A viscous circle.
2. The question
I’ve always known who I was and I always accepted others for who they were, black, white, straight, gay, bi and whatever in between. When I was around eleven, I had a friend, who was female, that nearly constantly asked if I wanted to date her, I always turned her down. Saying the same things over and over again. “I’m sorry, but I like guys.” Once after I told her that, I started thinking. “Why do I like guys? What about liking a guy is different from liking a girl? Do I only like guys?” I sat and wondered about that all day, just thinking about the self-asked-question. By that night, I had finally come up with my answer. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about gender! I wasn’t straight, but I wasn’t bi. I didn’t know what I was. But I did know that I didn’t care. What I care about is, a good sense of humor, being able to talk to them about anything, and feeling cared for. Gender didn’t define those qualities, the person did. If that hadn’t been the last time she ever talked to me, maybe she would have finally gotten that answer she always wanted. I later in life found out the proper term for this is “Pansexuality” and I’m proud to be it.
3. I was scared.
I love my family, but I have always felt weird around them, like I had to hide something from my Dad’s side of the family. It was everything. I realized it at the age of 15 that I had to hide almost everything about me that makes me, well, me! My sexuality, my sense of humor, inside jokes with my sister that they’d never let me explain. They still, and probably always will, treat me as a little girl that knows nothing of importance. Like I will never be physically strong and that I should, in near exact words from my Nana, “let the men handle the heavy work.” That having emotions and crying when in any kind of pain is something to be ashamed of and hide or not do at all! That your say, at least most of the time, doesn’t matter. I realized I was uncomfortable there, that I didn’t like visiting for long amounts of time and would rather be home with my Mom, than visiting my Dad. I finally talked about this with my Mom after the possibility of visiting them came up at dinner. Others were visiting at the time, so I talked to her after while we were washing dishes. I came clean about how I felt and we talked about the whole situation while I cried, finally letting out emotions I had bottled up for so long. We came to the agreement that I would only visit now and then, at least until I felt comfortable bringing all of this up with them. But the point was that I was scared to death about how they’d react, and I still am.
sugarrusheb 