F – Face Change

My Theme this April is “My Muse Says…”

The Story Spark for this story was an overheard conversation.

What I heard was “You need to change your face.”

The following is what my muse said I should write:

Face Change

Gwen was the middle child in the family. Her older brother was 3 years older than she was, and her younger brother was 3 years younger than she was. Life was not good to Gwen.

Having an older brother was okay for the first 3 years of her life. Though her father preferred having a son, he tolerated having a daughter, for her mother’s sake. Her mother doted on Gwen. Her mother tried to give Gwen everything she would need to be successful growing up, which wasn’t much, especially after her younger brother was born when she was three years old. Things got much worse. There were now two boys in the family, and the father was ecstatic. Gwen was an afterthought.

When Gwen turned six, her mother got pregnant again. She had a miscarriage. It would have been another girl. From that moment forward, Gwen’s father was hard to live with. His reaction was, of course, there was a miscarriage; it was a girl after all.

Gwen and her mother no longer had any standing in the family. Gwen’s father put them both down with criticism whenever he could. Everything was their fault. You would constantly hear Gwen’s mother crying. Gwen lived in fear, wearing a perpetual frown.

As the years went on and much verbal abuse, Gwen’s parents divorced. Her mother retained custody of Gwen, and they both moved far away from their home. Gwen would never see her father and brothers again. Not that she cared to.

Life was difficult for the two of them. There was little Gwen’s mother could do to make Gwen happy. When Gwen reached the age of 20, her mother passed away. She was now on her own. 

The torment that she had lived through was too much for her. Her demeanor, having grown up with so much hate and criticism, affected everything she did. She was very critical of others she interacted with. She looked down on those who didn’t meet her standards. Physically, she slumped as she walked, head down, lips curled down into a frown. One look at her and you would immediately go out of your way to avoid contact.

It’s not that she was affected by this. Though she had grown up with this kind of behavior from others, she longed for something different, some acceptance and empathy for what she had gone through. The problem was that she was never willing to share any of that information with anyone for fear of more rejection.

Unbeknownst to Gwen, some of her classmates who questioned Gwen’s behavior and attitude had spoken with her language professor and asked if he could do anything about it.

The professor had an inkling of what might have been the root of Gwen’s behavior, and rather than confront her, decided on a particular writing assignment that might provide her an opportunity to open up. The topic was to write a story, in the form of a letter, to yourself from your mirror reflection. 

While others in the class wrote about how wonderful their lives had been and how whenever they had problems, they had good support systems to help them through, Gwen told all of her life. She wrote about her family, how she was treated, how much work it took her mother to help them survive, with no time for pleasurable things, and how much effort Gwen had to put into being in control of herself. 

After reading all of the stories, Gwen’s professor called her aside and asked her if she would read her story to the class. 

“Why should I?” she asked, “Why would they be interested in all my misfortune?”

Her professor was quite clear. “Because your story needs to be heard. The face you wear hides the person you want to be. It masks the good in you that you seek. Your story opens that piece of you up to all that you interact with. And most importantly, if you never let this story be heard, you will never know what you are capable of.”

“But I’m afraid,” she said. “I don’t know how to wear a different face. Will anyone else have to read their stories? Maybe I don’t have to go first.”

After a pause, the professor responded quietly to her. “Gwen, you should know that some of your fellow students are worried about you. They asked me if I could do something to help. This assignment was not meant for any of them, though they all had to do it. It was meant for you, in the hope that what you would write was actually what you did write. I won’t make you read it aloud. You can be satisfied with a good grade on a great piece of writing. Or, I would encourage you to stand up straight in front of our class, change that scowl you wear, not to a smile yet, for this is not a happy piece, that will come in time, but to a hopeful face. Let the emotions you expressed in your writing come out in your reading, and be willing to accept whatever response you get.”

This was the first time that anyone had taken the time to sit down with Gwen and talk to her from the heart. She said she would try. 

And so it was. From the empathy and compassion that she received at the completion of her reading and the continued positive interactions that came to her afterwards, she changed. It wasn’t an immediate change; it took some time, as changes sometimes do. But she became a different, more positive person. And even began to smile.

The lesson had been learned. To live with your fears, disgust, frustration, and worthlessness inside of you is not a healthy way to live. Despite all the misfortune and hate that has been placed upon you, it’s through love, compassion, empathy, and a willingness to share with others, who you are and want to be, that is important.