The Great Pretender
I'm really good at pretending. Pretending that things don't hurt me. So good, in fact, that it annoys me at times. Where did such a talent, and a curse, come from? Maybe from enduring abuse at the hands of my grandfather without any trace of emotion on my face so he didn't know how humiliated and ashamed I was? Maybe from hearing negative comments about my mom from my dad and step-mom as I was growing up, feeling that they were somehow putting me down because she was a part of me? Maybe after listening to the hurtful comments my mom made about my period once in my early teenage years, as if I wasn't already mortified at the changes happening with my body? Wherever this ability came from, it hasn't always served me well. Along with pretending that the actions and words of others don't hurt me, I have developed this coping mechanism of becoming angry instead. Several years ago, I was talking to a friend about something that had happened over the weekend. My feel