Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to stay Anonymous

This is her story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

My story isn’t a story of strife or anguish
My story isn’t a story of blood shed
My story isn’t a story of loss of a loved one

My story is a story of pain and fear.
Fear of the unknown.
Would I ever be good enough? To anyone?.
I sob as i ask myself.

I try, I swear I do… but nothing is enough, nothing has ever beenn. I write this not this day, with tears burning down my cheeks and streaming like a waterfall while hearing the hurtful words in my head, not by strangers, not by enemies, not by passers by but by those who bore me. ‘You’re a dissapointment to this family’ and ‘I’m dissapointed in you’ are interchangably the stars of the show once the hurling begins.

Each year I always try and delve into something, anything at all that’ll make dem proud but I fail harder each time I try. First of all, I was the best of the best when it came to school work, academically I sas unbeatable, unstoppable, best in all 14 course-works (subjects), 1st position for 8 yrs straight meaning it took me 24 terms to realize that I wasn’t good enough and all  those fancy prices and stuff did them no good, made them no proud so I started doing it for me and it was a downward spiral.

That decision I regret forever.

Then I started doing sports. I have at least a medal in each sport. I do competitions and all and yet again, I was unstoppable, it became unfathomable swimming, running, ballet, gymnastics, even started playing table tennis and then when I hit the track, it was like love at first flight … yet, the hurtful words kept coming ‘I am dissapointed in you’. Sometimes honestly ’cause of those words I look into the mirror and all I see is a constant failure and a laughing stock, a laughing stock because I keep getting up to try again. My musical career was forthcoming and on the rise, at this point I could do no wrong, that’s what I thought, I was coached by the great pastor Kunle Ajayi and I rendered a solo for the General Overseer of the RCCG and all I wanted was a ‘I’m proud of you’.

But then…

It never came, it never ever and it hurts more than anything in the world. it’s not a shocker the next words that came. The series continued nd then an additional phrase was attached to the usual, they started complaining that I’m good academically and domestically useless while in actuality the only thing I was taught to do while growing up was to do the dishes. I fought tooth nd nail to get it right and lo and behold I did, all that was in my head was ‘Nothing could go wrong this time’ and to my disbelief day-after-day, night-after-night, I still hear the words ringing out loud ‘I’m dissapointed in you’ and I’m like I literally became a ‘super-hero’ to keep all this together yet the ‘dissapointing me’ was still forth coming.

I became above all a social outcast whose only mode of fun was visiting people and actually sleeping over which is after I’ve done some work around so they’ll look at me and be proud of where I’m from. I was labelled all sorts for my anti-social ways ‘omo pastor’ and stuff like that. People call me childish till tomorrow because I do every single thing mummy and daddy ask me to do and they find it weird, too weird that they just conclude I’m immature all in this quest to get that ‘I’m proud of you’ . It hurts sometime, but nothing on earth is as hurtful as those words my father would say.
In the quest of being a perfect child…I may not have figured a lot of things such as how to make them proud and how to stop that sentence from coming out, but I’ve learnt a lot and now I figured after so many years that I was on the wrong quest. Stuffing my pillow on my face while the tears penetrate through my pillowcase while I hoped for some miracle to happen that my pains are soaked away, I wonder who I really am I wonder what kept me good this long? I ask myself so many questions, that’s the Quest I am on…
…to make me proud and to make God proud.

Beneath this smile used to be a frown (with wrinkles sef) lol but then things have changed(a bit)…Beneath this smile is an Overtly confident young Overachiever with big dreams she plans on achieving..

Beneath this smile is an emotionally deficit lady with a bigger smile from the heart.

Beneath this smile is someone who took something so harsh and made a positive life out of it.

Beneath this smile is ME.

It took me more than 19 years, 17 medals, 3 honorariums’ for me to realize that nothing on earth is more rewarding than hearing God’s voice with the heavens’ open with his voice in a baritone saying ‘This is my daughter in whom I am well pleased”…:)

What’s beneath your smile?

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s  ’Her Story, XXXVII’ by an Anonymous writer

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)