“I’m Fine” – The Lie We Learn to Say

Have you ever told someone you were fine when you really weren’t? Most of us have. We say it every day:

We all say it.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m good.”

“It’s alright.”

These words roll off the tongue so easily. They’re polite. Expected. They don’t make things awkward. But behind these words often hides a very different truth.

For many people, “I’m fine” is not honesty — it’s a mask. A cover-up. A way to stay safe when they feel anything but okay. It’s a line rehearsed so many times that it starts to sound real, even when every part of the body wants to scream the opposite.

Why do people lie about how they feel?

Because it feels safer. Because being honest might bring judgment, rejection, or more pain. Because they’ve been taught that no one wants to hear the truth. Because the last time they tried to open up, they were shut down.

So instead, they smile. They laugh. They say, “It’s alright. Don’t worry about me.” But deep inside, they are crying out — silently.

Words can hurt. Not just obvious insults or shouting, but even small comments that carry sharp edges. A joke that cuts too deep. A tone that dismisses. A silence that freezes someone out. And when this happens over and over, the wounds build up. But since they aren’t physical, they often go unnoticed.

You can’t bandage a broken spirit the way you bandage a cut.

And so, the person who’s been hurt learns to hide it. They become an expert at pretending. They laugh on cue. They say the “right” things. They keep conversations light. They even comfort others while crumbling inside. They put on a perfect show — because showing their pain feels too risky.

Eventually, “I’m fine” becomes their go-to answer. It’s easier than explaining the truth. Easier than being vulnerable. Easier than risking being told, “You’re overreacting,” or “Don’t be so sensitive.”

But pretending comes at a cost. What’s bottled up inside doesn’t disappear — it builds. It becomes stress, anxiety, sadness, even depression. And one day, the mask might crack. The person might break down, lash out, or fall silent for good.

So how can we change this?

We start by listening better.

Don’t assume that “I’m fine” means everything is okay. Pay attention to the tone, the eyes, the hesitation. Ask twice if you need to. Let the person know you really care. Sometimes the smallest act of kindness can open a door that’s been locked for years.

Create safe spaces. Let people be real without fear of judgment. Sometimes, just being there, sitting quietly, and listening can do more than a thousand “cheer up” speeches.

And if you’re the one who always says “I’m fine,” take a breath.

It’s okay to be honest. It’s okay to say you’re not okay. That doesn’t make you weak — it makes you brave. Speaking your truth, even if it’s just to one person, can be the start of healing.

You don’t have to tell your whole story. Start small. Say, “Today was hard,” or “I could use a little support.” You might be surprised by how many people understand — and how willing they are to help, once they know.

“I’m fine” should not be a wall that separates us from the world. It should not be the sentence we use to cover our cries. We deserve better. We deserve to be honest, to feel safe, to be heard.

So next time you say “I’m fine,” ask yourself: is that the truth, or is that the mask?

And if it’s the mask — maybe, just maybe, it’s time to take it off.