The Mask of Happiness

Every morning begins the same way. The alarm clock sounds the horid alert that it is time to stop trying to sleep, and prepare for the day. A deep sigh, and slow struggle to sit up and get out of bed. How did I get here? How did pain and dread find their way into me and take hold of my days, my nights, my entire being? The morning used to be a happy time, a rejuvination. I can hear the kids getting ready for the day. Their laugh and giggling as they take a minute to play with the dog momentarily brings enough happiness for me to realize things aren't so bad. The morning routines continue on, and as I drive to work, I wonder when I will finally find what I have been looking for. I have a family, good job, reliable vehicles, a warm home to share with my wife and children, why is that not enough?

The phone rings and I elevate my voice to a joyful and interested tone to greet the person on the other end. Someone walks into my office bringing me another problem to solve and I greet them with a smile and a sincere posture to assure them they have my full attention and I am serious about addressing their concerns. I do my job, but the entire time I am at work, all I can think about is how I can get out of here. What excuse can I come up with to justify leaving early? If I did leave early, what would I do? What relief could I possibly conjure up before it is time to pick up kids from school, shuttle them to practices, make dinner, and then go to bed hoping restfull sleep will find me? No, I will stay here, and sit up straight, smile, inject as much joy into my voice as possible so as to not attract any attention or solicit any curiosity that something isn't right. Tomorrow is a new day and a new hope that everything will be alright.