The Clown

The Clown-Elizabeth Jennings

Others are noble and admired –
The ones who walk the tightrope without nets,
The one who goes inside the lion’s cage,
And all the grave, audacious acrobats.
Away from fear and rage
He simply is the interval for tired

People who cannot bear
Too much excitement. They can see in him 8
Their own lost innocence or else their fear
(For him no metal bars or broken limb).
Have they forgotten that it takes as much
Boldness to tumble, entertain and jest
When loneliness walks tightropes in your breast
And every joke is like a wild beast’s touch?

This poem is one I read first at the age of 15 and never forgot.  I think I finally understand why it has appealed to me so much over the years. Ironically, my mother’s all-time favourite song in its various guises was “Send in the Clowns”- a similar theme…painting over the cracks, putting your best foot forward, fake it until you make it-there’s a lot of words and sayings to portray the times where we hide everything away behind laughter.

Apparent competence is a DBT term.  I think we can all relate to it in some form or other.  We all have times where we need to hide how we feel, smile and pretend that everything is ok when its anything but. Sometimes this ability even serves us well.  It keeps things balanced, helps us make clear, rational choices and can save a bad sitution from getting worse. There is something be said for it.

For me, it has cropped up again and again in therapy.  My therapist says that she always trusts the non-verbal cues in a person’s body language but that isn’t always possible with me because I can be literally be talking about feeling in the depths of despair while smiling and poised.  This has been a problem all my life.  This why people don’t always believe that mental illness is a problem for me.  It’s why I have often felt not listened to or understood-because people don’t have the correct information from me.  It’s why I have all but given up on the psychiatric services when, at a really horrible time, their letters state how engaging I was, how bright my mood, how tidily dressed…as a previous therapist put it, the outside and the inside never match.  It’s how talking about the really difficult stuff is all the more difficult because I am doing it without emotion, often with the urge to brighten up the conversation or crack a joke.

Apparent competence isn’t the same as lying or covering up. It’s not a choice but it is more of a default position, a reflex.  Somewhere in early life, we learned that negative emotions couldn’t or shouldn’t be seen.  We learned to mask everything with a smile.  It’s something people often say about me-that I am bubbly, that I’m always smiling.  In the midst of the my worst times it used to really frustrate me but now I understand it. Sometimes situations in early life need survival strategies and this is/was one. Sometimes people need you to be strong.  They need to see that smile and as with most behaviours, the more you receive positive reinforcement, the more likely you are to continue the behaviour. Going back to what I said above: Sometimes this ability even serves us well.  It keeps things balanced, helps us make clear, rational choices and can save a bad situation from getting worse. Sometimes it’s these things that make a difference between drowning and swimming to shore.

It’s a disconcerting thought and very hard to figure out how to “drop the act.” I remind myself that during my darker times a few years ago, it used to physically hurt that people fell for my act.  And then when they didn’t, when it got too difficult to act, it confused them because there was no lead in, no warning signs.  I remember writing about this ability to act the part when I was teenager-I remember writing a line in a poem about

“acting a part so well, the audience never needs to know who you are.”

I can’t offer up a solution for this.  It’s still registering with me.  But my therapist pointed out that recognising it is a step in itself.  I can start to look at it, to think about what it might be like to drop the mask and admit to having a bad day or feeling low.  I could look at moments like two evenings ago when visiting my Dad and he asked me if I was ok because I seemed quiet.  Instantly in my head that became a cue to lighten up and talk and assure him that I am fine.  What would it be like to say otherwise?  It seems terrifying.  It makes me feel guilty-wouldn’t I be worrying people?  Putting a burden on to those I love?  But my therapist reminded me that being real means sometimes the conversations will be tough, they won’t be what the other person might want or hope to hear and it’s the same with this.  Being real is hoping the people you love will accept you at the times when you are not at your best.

Put simply, being real is giving people a chance to see you at your most human and messiest and hoping that they won’t reject you.  If they do, as the saying goes, they are not your people. But there’s always the chance that they won’t…because if there’s one thing we can all empathise with its mess, and chaos and above all, being human.

“When we feel weak, we drop our heads on the shoulders of others. Don’t get mad when someone does that. Be honored. For that person trusted you enough to, even if subtly, ask you for help.” ― Lori Goodwin