MARTYR:  3: victim; especially: a great or constant sufferer

I am a martyr.

I try to control the impulse to be dramatic and miserable, but I come from a long line of professional martyrs who have suffered through the ages with every conceivable sort of oppression, illness, or vice. I’ve had decades of conditioning, and sometimes I’m not terribly successful at overcoming it. I am self-aware enough, however, to recognize and acknowledge that one of the reasons for my lack of success is that I am prone to enjoy the attention I receive when I am being dramatic and miserable. I like to think that it’s obvious that I would, of course, prefer the kind of attention I receive when I am happy and upbeat, but there is a certain dismal pleasure in moaning about one’s trials and sacrifices, and wallowing in self-pity.

In my line of life, though, I find that being a martyr is really only pleasurable if I don’t have any serious problems. When I do, as now, have a few Very Serious Issues that I’m trying to work through, I find I am constantly checking in with myself to verify that I am not falling into the trap of being a complete and utter misery to everyone around me. It is an obsession in its own right, this checking in, and all part of being a self-aware psycho.

Being a martyr, though, is really a full-time occupation if you’re going to do it right. Being properly miserable takes effort, and a lot of concentration, because if you even once let happiness, joy, or smug satisfaction creep into your demeanor of pain, you are revealed for the pseudo-martyr you actually are.

Unfortunately, that has not been a problem of late. Misery has consumed my life. It’s like a hole that I’ve dug for myself, one that has been aided by a Steam Shovel of Health Issues (+20 to all emotional damage rolls) and a Jackhammer of Job Dissatisfaction (-10 to Charisma). The health issues, especially, have been demoralizing and worrisome. Given my love of hyperbole, and my tendency toward histrionics, it is easy to propel myself further down the Tunnel of Despair.

Getting out is another thing entirely.

I get so frustrated with the “Positive Thinking” people. There are many different flavors of that sort of person, but invariably I run into the chirpy, vague ones. “Let go and let God.” “When a door closes, a window opens.” “Altitude is determined by attitude.” I do understand their point:  If you want to effect a change in your life, change your attitude first. The problem is the “how,” and those kinds of platitudes are not terribly helpful in that regard.

As it happens, though, I have hit on a simple solution. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it before. This time around, though, I was apparently paying a little more attention than I’ve been able to muster of late, and there it was, staring me in the face.

I needed to fake it.

It even turns out that there is a silly saying for that:  “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Who knew, right? That would have actually been a helpful thing to have heard, because that makes sense to me.

I discussed this, like any good, self-aware psycho would, with my therapist. He explained why it worked, how happy, happy body chemistry just starts bubbling away in that mad laboratory in your skull when you smile, and how pretending to be energetic can sometimes, occasionally, help you to actually feel more energized. When combined with magic pills that work with the Science that is happening in my brain, faking a good mood actually started to work. Soon, I was really smiling. I was also feeling happy, and even, dare I say it, chipper. Good followed good, and after a while, I was in danger of having my martyr card revoked.

This doesn’t work every day. It doesn’t even work most days. But occasionally it works, and occasionally is good enough for now. I arrive at work with a fake smile on my face, and even though my internal monologue may be sad and defeated and snarky, I modulate my tones to be pleasant and light, and pretend with everything I’ve got that I am not only happy to be there, but that I’m feeling great, too. And soon I will be actually feeling great, and actually be happy, and nobody but us will know that I was faking.