The War Paints

I wake up in the morning and stare at my reflection and wonder how well can I hide it all today. Somewhat expertly I apply the mask of the day. It's my war paints and I can't go out without it. It hides the lack of sleep and the sadness, the pale cheeks, and the fact that I am getting older. It makes me feel stronger. I am playing the part of a women who has it all together. Get dressed, put on whatever costume I feel I need that day. The days that are ok, the mask is less intricate. It's really myself that I am trying to convince. Get up, get the kids up, breakfast, lunch, take them to school..... You know, like all mothers do. If I look the part, maybe I can play the part. Just keep going, and don't stop long enough to think. But somedays, the memories slip out of my eyes and down my cheeks. They wash away the war paints and I'm stuck staring reality in the face. Its not nearly as ok as I seem. Most of the time I fight that. G-D forbid should we be sad, let G-D down, let my family down, let myself down, let you down. But sometimes I am too tired to fight and my masks are not working. Sometimes it's ok to not be ok. But tomorrow I will probably buy new lipstick and see if that fixes it all.