BRIGHTEN UP

Yesterday, which I thought was a pretty good day, a friend of mine asked me if I was okay, as I ‘didn’t quite seem’ myself.

There are only so many logical conclusions. Either my face paints a false picture of how I’m actually feeling, or, I have somehow deluded myself into believing I’m alright when I’m not. A third possibility of course is that my friend was trying to tell me something about themselves, hoping that I’d get the hint. If you don’t get why anyone would actually project their own feelings onto somebody else like that, then join the club. But I can see how that might be possible, if bizarre.

So, which is it? If it’s the first scenario then I need to work out how to brighten up, and let my face match my heart. But, given that I’m notoriously poor at hiding my facial expressions, it seems unlikely that it’s this.

If it’s the third one, and I was being projected onto like a canvas, then I’m really sorry I missed the opportunity to respond in kind. But, given the strength, job, and past-form of my friend in this case, I’m really not sure it can be this either.

So that leaves option two - the troubling probability that I am deluding myself about being ‘alright’, and my face is continuously overflowing with the news that I’m not.

Oh joy. I’m in trouble then, and not as consistent as I thought, and it’s obvious to the world. I don’t quite seem myself, and as it turns out, my self was the last to know.

I was thankful. Someone kind had taken time for me, and that means a lot. I was honest in response at least, thinking on my feet. I went on to say it might just be a lack of sunlight, possibly leading to what I called ‘seasonal depression’. We talked a bit about sun lamps and vitamin D.

So, how am I going to be more honest about how I’m feeling? That seems like a ridiculous question to ask the Internet, having written with my heart on my sleeve and a face that gives me away to everybody, but maybe that is part of it.

Also, my friend took a risk I rarely do, but it made all the difference yesterday. Perhaps I should get better at spotting when people aren’t quite themselves and checking that they’re okay; that seems like a kind, obvious thing to do, even if the risk there is that they just tell me to go away and mind my own business.

I believe that somehow trust, vulnerability and relationship are bound together, interflowing and reinforcing each other, growing and moving and changing. If I struggle with one, it affects the other two. And I can do better than that.

I can also maybe get a sun lamp and some vitamins and start brightening up from the outside, in. And I’m really thankful for that suggestion, and specifically the friendship that brought it to me.