Faces

Each and everyone one of us wear a million faces. Even those of us who strive to be honest and straightforward with the people in our lives... we play a game with masks.

My boss does something to slight me? I play the quietly disgruntled employee. No boat rocking here.

My kids get out of line? I am strict-teacher Jen, with no-nonsense words and an extra phone call to make for the night.

Look in the mirror? I put on my vain face. I pay extra attention to makeup, find cute earings, the most feminine (yet appropriate) clothes, my beautiful, long-haired wig and pretend I like what I see.

Find out I have an infection that will delay chemo? I try to put on my professional face. Ask questions. Change schedules. Come up with last minute sub-plans for Friday.

Have MRSA cut out of me, with only a local anasthetic that just doesn't go quite deep enough... then I'm a crybaby. And I'm ashamed, because it's on my bum, and I'm tired of exposing myself to people.

When I talk to the doctor about how they knew about this infection since August, but they chose not to tell me... Then I'm angry Jen. Angry, in pain Jen. Tell me what you know. I can decided if it's important to me or not. This would have been important.

When I'm home, talking to my roommates, I'm ranty and angry and bitter.. until it all breaks and then I'm sobbing on the floor because, as much as I know I need to be positive Jen...or even angry Jen... I just dissolve and wonder how many more faces are going to be necessary to deal with all this.

My masks are getting tangled up, I'm tired, and the masquerade has lost it's appeal. I just want to be healthy again.