When Dad finally returned, we “celebrated” by going out to dinner as a family that evening. There was no constructive dialogue, no closure, just “pretending normal.” Pretending normal was another step in our abuse cycle. It was our denial period. After all, if we pretended that we really were a happy, go-lucky, “normal” family than maybe it just might actually come true this time. Maybe if we were good enough actors, we’d stay in this happy (albeit very fake) state forever. It was a poor attempt at fooling ourselves, and we knew it. But at least we knew we could at least fool the rest of the world. By pretending normal we could hide the fact that we were a chaotic, neurotic, emotional mess of a family struggling to get through every day, every hour, even every minute together.
I got so good at pretending “normal” that it became one of my biggest aspirations in my young life. Most teenage girls just want to feel like they “fit in anyway.” I already knew I didn’t. I knew I never would. I knew I would never be “normal,” and so that is the ONE THING that I craved more than anything. I wanted to know what it felt like to be “normal” for just one day. I tried so hard. I tried too hard. I never did attain normalcy, and I was devastated by that fact.
Pretending took SO. MUCH. WORK. I had to pretend I was someone I wasn’t EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I had to smile when I felt like crying. I had to say that I was fine when I wasn’t. I had to pretend that I hadn’t been molested most of my life. I had to pretend that my Dad didn’t scream at us regularly. I had to pretend that my family was perfect. I had to pretend that my life was perfect. That kind of acting was exhausting! It drained my soul. I felt like I was lying to the world. I was lying to myself, but I didn’t see any other alternative.
More than anything I wanted to scream! Scream to the world! I wanted to announce what a façade I was living. But I knew I couldn’t. That was much scarier and more threatening than the current life I was living. Instead, I wished and prayed for someone to somehow figure out that I was a complete fake, that something was terribly wrong with me and my family. I just wanted someone to rescue me.
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To this day I refuse to “pretend normal” with anyone. I've taken off my mask for good! It is still sometimes hard, but I do my best to not bottle up what I’m feeling or thinking. When I’m upset, people know I’m upset. When I’m happy, people know it. Because of my past, I vowed that I would be true to myself. I will never pretend to be anyone I’m not. Never again.