Behind the Smile
"Smile though your heart is aching. Smile even though it's breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by; If you smile through your fear and sorrow. Smile and maybe tomorrow. You'll see the sun come shining through for you. Light up your face with gladness. Hide every trace of sadness. Although a tear may be ever so near. That's the time you must keep on trying. Smile, what's the use of crying? You'll find that life is still worthwhile. If you just smile" - Nat King Cole
Do you ever look at a picture and, see someone smiling in it, and wonder what is behind the smile? What makes them so happy? Are they happy? Or are hiding pain, stress or anger that they aren’t allowed to show, otherwise? Are they grinning and bearing it, as we often say? As many, often do.
I found a picture of myself today; one where I appear to be happily handing over the reins to a job I’d been doing for some time to one of my comrades. I’m smiling, handing him a plaque, symbolizing that I’m willingly handing this position over to him. The picture, on social media, with comments from him saying that I’d done a wonderful job, and my response suggesting that I was excited about my new adventure and happy to hand it over to him. Both of us, smiling and looking pretty for the camera. He was happy. He’d held the same position previously, and was looking forward to doing the work once again. No fault of his, I was not happy. In fact, I was dying inside.
I wasn’t willingly handing anything over to anyone. It was being stripped from me. All of it. My job, my position, my posting, my pride, my dignity and my autonomy. All because I had reported the ongoing sexual harassment that I had been enduring by a superior for well over two years. I was smiling but I was not happy. My smile was a mask. Behind my smile, was an exorbitant amount of pain.
I did something really difficult today. I told a small fraction of the story behind that smile, to 2,000+ of my comrades; on a group on social media, as a way of explaining how broken the trade was. And, how broken I was because of the trade. I told a tiny piece of that story, in attempt to make it known how I felt about how victims are blamed, shamed, ousted and ostracized when they come forward within a military environment. How things like this lead to darkness and more pain. I told this tiny piece of my story, and then I found this picture on the same social media platform, the same day. The picture that, if you could see behind my smile, and read between the lines of my comment, would reveal the whole story, in its entirety.
A story that began in 2011, when I joined the military. Or, even further back, when I was just finishing college; graduating at the top of my class, as valedictorian and school council president. Mother of five, community volunteer, happily married wife, starting her second career at 41 years old. Excited and proud to be serving her country, while living a life-long dream of being a police officer. A new beginning. Fresh perspective and hopefulness for a brighter future. A light. A story that took that light, and shoved it in the blackest corner it could find. A story of darkness, pain, struggle, abuse, assault, grief and loss.
A journey from wellness to illness. That started with sexual assault during basic training, that resulted in divorce and the loss of my family, home and step kids. A story of trying to get through military training as a 40+ year old woman; a daunting task without any other losses, traumas or victimization. One of fighting through the pain; emotional, psychological and physical, just to get to the ultimate destination. The badge. The job. To serve. To protect. To uphold the duties of a sworn military police member. To do so, ethically and honorably, and with pride. A story of surviving. Of grinning and bearing it, if you will, just to get by; to survive.
One of surviving ageism, ableism, sexism and misogyny. Of surviving compound injury, illness and other stressors. In addition to surviving years of sexual harassment at the hands of a superior, without reporting the abuse of authority; because I was afraid to come forward for fear of losing my job. The inevitable end result, it seems (as that is precisely what happened when I did; as most of you who have read my other blog posts, know). A story of multiple losses in the double digits within a period of five years.
The story behind the smile is one of pain, pressure, trauma, loss, abuse, harassment, assault, family troubles, and suffering. Behind the smile, of a woman who didn’t want to live through any of it. Who almost didn’t live. A woman, who’s strength others admired; because she could keep going in the face of adversity by simply faking a smile.
You never know someone’s full story. And, as I’ve said before, you cannot judge their story by the chapter you walked in on because of that. You also, never truly know what’s behind someone’s smile. You cannot fathom how much pain and suffering someone is enduring, while smiling to hide the pain. Just as you cannot begin to imagine how they are managing that smile, despite their suffering, if you did know. What I did today was extremely difficult. Finding that picture was equally as hard. Both, took me right back to that very moment in time, when I didn’t feel I could continue. That picture, was taken the very day I tried to kill myself again; for the third time, I think – I’ve lost count. Luckily, I chickened out. Luckily, I couldn’t summon enough courage to not keep being courageous; or at least to keep pretending I was. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? That picture, symbolizes the complete and utter lack of control that I had, at that moment; over my life, my career, or any of my circumstances while I was still a serving MP.
What that picture doesn’t tell you though; what that smile was really saying, was that there would come a day, like today, where it all came out. Like today, where I told (albeit, a small fraction of) my story to and in front of the people who had an impact on that smile. The people whose orders, resulted in that picture. Who’s behaviour caused that smile. Who’s abuse of authority and unethical behaviour, caused the true emotions behind that smile. People, who will not be smiling when they read what I wrote about my experience.
As I said, you can’t tell from that picture, what I’m feeling. You can’t tell why I’m smiling. You don’t know what is behind that smile. You don’t know the almost insurmountable suffering I endured while, ‘faking it’ with a smile. But what I can tell as I look back on that picture is this; is that, even when I don’t feel like I’ll make it, if I smile through it, I will. I always do. In part, because I force the smile to make me ‘feel’ like I’m happy, even when I’m not. And, in part because I didn’t let them see me cry. I didn’t let them know how much they hurt me. I didn’t let them win. And I lived to see another day, to fight another day. I lived to tell a bit more of my story, and smile another day. Because I didn’t let them win. And, that my friends… that brings a real and sincere smile to my face.