"Smile, it can't be that bad"

Call me crazy, but I have always loathed that catchphrase, especially when I'm out shopping and the sales clerk or cashier says it to me. Why would anybody say that to someone they don't know? I never understood this. First of all, they don't know me, and they don't know what's going on in my life, therefore the fact that I am not smiling should never be of their concern, nor should they ever assume that "it can't be that bad."


I've always been polite when someone communicates that, especially someone that is an employee of the establishment to where I am shopping. Mostly because at the time, nothing was wrong in my life—that I can remember—so I never said a word, just dealt with it politely with a fake smile and continued to walk away.


I know for the most part they're trying to brighten my day, but will a smile honestly do it? Maybe, but for the most part, I've always been one of those people who would walk around, unbeknownst to me, without a smile on my face. Maybe it's the New Yorker in me, I don't know, but I just never paid attention, nor should I have to. Or should I?


I just never really thought twice about it—until someone would say something to me. Say something that is really none of their business. Unless they're a friend of mine, I don't see the point.


But these past 6+ months in my life proved otherwise. Smiling was literally a struggle for me and I didn't know how to "fake" it. I think for the most part, that is why I never showed up to my daughter's soccer games this past spring season to avoid such questions and inquiries. I just wasn't ready to face the music, if you will. I wanted to crawl into a fetus position and cry, that's what was pleasureable to me, not smiling. That was the last thing I was thinking of doing during the worst time of my life. And after my dad died, I was a spectacle of sadness—although that's a legitimate action during the mourning of a loved one, I'm not sure if that's still how one is supposed to act while out in the public arena.


Thankfully, nobody had uttered that phrase to me during those tumultuous days, otherwise I don't know what I would have been capable of or how I would have responded to them. And with the recent passing of my father, I most likely wouldn't have cared either way. 


So yeah, it IS that bad.


Life is short, I realize this—especially now—but when your mind is at a stand still and depression is a common daily occurrence, how could I be happy or smile? I just couldn't. I wanted to so badly, but after my lovely visit to the psychiatric hospital and recent events surrounding the death of my father, my bipolar disorder and thoughts of suicide, is it that bad? I would have to say the answer is yes. A solid yes.


It's a disease we cannot control, as much as we would like to think otherwise, it is out of our hands without seeking proper medication and therapy. In my soul and my brain, I couldn't comprehend that this was happening to me. Bipolar disorder only happens to someone else, right? Not me. It took me a long time to accept this and now that I see the results and success of my medication, I now know that bipolar disorder is what I have and how it was legitimately diagnosed several years ago.


I won't give up, regardless of what anybody says to me. I can't, I have to realize that life is so very precious, and how my family mean the world to me. I don't want to give up. After seeing my father lying in his hospital bed fighting for his life, he finally came to the realization that his life was over. He had no choice but to stop fighting. I knew the time had come while I was there with him, every step of the way, and nothing saddened me more. I wanted him in my life and I didn't want him to go. But it was out of my hands and into God's instead. I'm not a religious person, never have been and most likely never will be, but I knew right then and there that we had to give in to his cancer and end the fight.


As I currently wallow in my surroundings of pure bliss and recent creative inspiration, I must proceed with all things secure and happy. Maybe now, given my state of mind these past few months, if and when someone says to me, "smile, it can't be that bad," I will respond with "you're right, it's not," and proudly display my buoyant smile.


I must give in.


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