I’m very good at pretending to be happy. I’ve spent my life masking pain, pretending disfunction doesn’t exist, covering up the wounds of trauma, and ultimately faking a persona of light and confidence. It’s a coping mechanism. It means I can hold a public job despite the fact that I have social anxiety. It means I shower, pay my bills, and show up to work on time even though I’ve struggled deeply with depression. It means I’ve done physical jobs while being in excruciating p