In fact, I was such a prodigious actress, no one cognized I was on a stage.

I fell into the talent when my grandfather died two weeks before my first day of high school. Upon his untimely hour he left his two youngest children, nine year old Camille and eight year old William.

My mother adopted Camille and William, setting my acting career in motion. It was almost effortless to impress them with my constant smiles and laughter. My mother was even assured by the legitimacy of my performance.

I became the only person who knew I did not want two siblings, especially ones with anger management issues and a past they were too afraid to remember. I never agreed to have siblings who preferred I did not exist because they wanted my mother for themselves. I resented Camille and William for becoming the new center of my mother’s world.

As time went on, my acting skills sharpened. While onstage at school, I filled the role of the girl who was constantly smiling and euphoric. I was the star athlete in track and the proud daughter who intended to be a first generation college student.

When the stage took place in my household it became easy to use humor to disguise the depression that hung thick in the air.

—Because my family had become actors too.

Suddenly, I lost my balance and begun to fall off stage—as Melody and Christon began to take the only parent I had and I felt I had no one to speak with about it, I started to lose myself.

I forgot what it sounded like when I cried because I had gotten used to clandestinely crying. I could not remember when I renounced my hobbies of reading and writing nor why. Time had become a conundrum for me and my memory failed to remind me what I had done that same day.

Nevertheless, I was an actor, and these small setbacks candidly meant I could make a drastic comeback. Thus, I slapped on my smile, slipped on my running shoes, and jumped back onto stage.

Then, while doing a regulatory performance, I forgot my lines—my grades began to drop, reflecting my neglected emotions and the mental stress I attempted to ignore each time William ran away or CPS arrived on our doorstep.

I knew my performances were becoming an unhealthy behavior, but the depression I sank into just made me want to act more.

Concerned teachers guided me to a school offered retreat. It was on the retreat when I stopped acting and finally said it.

—The Truth.

I explained how the mental toll of dealing with death, a depressed mother, and children whose lives would never be filled with the happiness I once felt, made me physically weak at times.

I found myself able to complain about having to grow up faster than I would have preferred. I spoke about how arduous it is to take care of a family, and the exasperation I felt trying to keep it from falling apart.

Especially a family I never wanted.

Yet, even after sharing, I still felt the weight on my shoulders. Now, months after the summer retreat, I am finally beginning to understand why.

I had used acting as a way to avoid accepting the life I had been given.

And after accepting it, I have started the process of healing. This process will take time; however, I am beginning to regain reassurance of who I am. I am reinstating how to share my true emotions with family and friends. I have already started confronting family issues instead of ignoring them.

It is going to be difficult to acknowledge my family situation and be happy, but I am making the choice to accept, learn, and grow from challenges.

—I no longer feel the necessity to act happy;

I am becoming happy.