Why do I need so badly for people to think that I have my crap together? We wear masks that grin and lie, and Barbie has nothing on the plastic faces I wear.
Barbie, intransitive verb, to pretend that everything is perfect and you are fine when in fact neither of those things is even 1% true.
I Barbie a lot. But I’ve learned something recently.
It’s okay to not be okay. (There’s a weird kind of liberation in facing it.)
It’s okay to admit that you don’t feel like smiling all the time. (A fake smile is the most painful thing in the world.)
It’s okay to cry just because you’re sad. (Sometimes there is no reason. Sometimes you’re just sad.)
It’s okay to ask for help. (Being vulnerable doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you’re brave.)
Few of us are lucky enough to have people in our lives with whom we can be our genuine selves. How many people would you go to when you’re crying, not because anything specific happened but because you’re just sad? How many people would listen to you while you try to figure out where something you struggle with began? How many people would take the time to look at the way you’re smiling and know you’re actually dying inside?
Who sees you? Who listens? Who knows?
Find those people. Keep those people. Treat them right. Because those people will stay with you through thick and thin. Those people will never stop fighting for you. Those people are a gift from God.