Confessions of a Serial Smiler

I have a deep dimple on my left cheek. Face cheek, that is, you nasty nasties. On my right cheek is another one, not so prominent but there nonetheless. Growing up, I used to HATE my dimples. People would put their fingers in them, comment about them, pinch my cheeks and tell me how cute they were and it used to drive me crazy. I used to think they made my already cheeky face look fat.

Now that I've gotten older, I've learned to appreciate having dimples. They're unique. The other day when I was working at the coffee shop, an older gentleman came in. I took his order and he just stood there with the most awkward smile, not saying a word. When he finally decided to speak he just spoke through that same weird smile and said "I like your dimples. They are very (and then he closed his eyes and proceeded to say)... attractive".

Ummmmm........okay. Thanks? Yeah. Thanks...that's how I'm supposed to respond to a compliment.

Compliments have not always been easy for me. In fact, when people give me compliments, I have a squirmy feeling inside. I don't know how to react to them. I don't know how to accept them. Most times, I just plain don't believe them and feel like it's just flattery anyway. But when people compliment my smile, I feel differently.

Another customer once called me over to her table and told me that she loved my smile, that it consumed my whole face and being and that she couldn't help but smile herself even though I was not even smiling at her. That made me smile even more and then I couldn't stop.

But I have a confession to make.

I am a serial smiler.

I smile even when I'm not happy. I smile when I'm upset. My lips turn up when I want to scream, when I'm depressed or tired or anxious and maybe even when I'm sleeping. Most people might think this is a nice trait to have. But the truth is, it often depicts an outward happiness when I am inwardly struggling. Combine that with my already natural inclination to present myself as having-it-all-together, and it's often an emotionally deadly combination.

Truthful emotions do not come easy for me. There is a part of me that trained myself to believe that being happy and being "okay" meant being more mature spiritually. I convinced myself somewhere along my path of life that I had to be a fortress of optimism and positivity with everything that came my way, that a smile on my face meant that I somehow truly believed in my heart that "all things work together for good" and that God had a higher and better plan for my life.

But the truth is, I don't always feel like that. More times than not, I DON'T feel like that. When I'm honest with myself, I recognize that real emotions are just what God wants to hear from me. When I hurt, it's okay to want to cry. When I'm confused, it's okay to ask God "What's going on?". When I feel lost and abandoned, it's okay to search for God where I don't expect Him to be. When I'm weak, it's okay to allow myself to be held. When I feel sad, it's okay to not pop out my dimples He gave me and to pray in a way that leaves me vulnerable and open. Just like when my own children are hurting, I want them to be honest with me in how they are feeling.

Last week, I had a meltdown. Like the cry-so-hard-it-closes-your-ears-and-nose kind of meltdown. The kind when, after it happens, you look back on those moments and you even scare yourself. Yeah, that was me. Not many people would have known it about me last week. A few people asked me if I was okay and I, of course, said I was fine. "Hormonal" I think is the actual answer I gave...an answer that seemed logical enough for a response and satisfying enough to not make them ask any further. I kept my smile on, I still laughed and joked and all the stuff people who wear good masks do. But inside I was hurting and in need of help...but I was just too weak to ask for it.

I'm working hard on being real with people. I'm trying my best to not let my smile or my dimples hide things that I ultimately need to talk about and deal with. I know it will take awhile to get there because it has taken a lifetime for me to build up the capacity to be so emotionally hidden. But it's something I AM working on and am trying to get better with it. I am at war within myself. Constantly. And though I am very happy and joyful with my life, I am not immune to struggle and hurt, despite my greatest efforts to show the world otherwise.