Today I Pretended to Be Okay — And No One Noticed

Today I Pretended to Be Okay — And No One Noticed

A Quiet Battle Behind a Loud Smile — What It Feels Like to Be Invisible in Your Own Pain

I didn’t wake up wanting to lie.

But somehow, I did. All day.

I said I was “good” when I wasn’t.

I smiled when I felt empty.

I laughed at jokes I didn’t hear.

I made eye contact and nodded and went through all the motions of someone who had it together.

And no one noticed.

No one noticed that my chest felt heavy.

That I hadn’t slept well in weeks.

That I stood in the shower for too long because it was the only place I didn’t have to pretend.

Today, I pretended to be okay — and the scariest part was how easy it was to get away with it.

I got dressed. Put on clean clothes. Did my hair. Brushed my teeth. Ate something. All the basic things people say you should do when you feel low.

I did all of them.

And still, I didn’t feel better.

I didn’t feel anything.

Just this quiet, familiar numbness.

Like I was walking through fog.

Like my soul had stepped out of my body and was just… watching me go through the day.

I texted back. I answered calls.

I even cracked a joke during a meeting. Someone said, “You always make the mood lighter.”

If they only knew.

The truth is, I’ve been trying to lift everyone else while sinking under my own weight.

People always say, “If you’re struggling, reach out.”

But what they don’t talk about is how hard it is to explain pain that doesn’t have words.

How do you say, “I’m not okay” when you don’t have a reason?

When nothing specifically happened today, but everything still feels wrong?

The worst part isn’t the sadness. It’s the invisibility.

It’s walking around with a broken heart in a perfectly normal-looking body.

It’s smiling because you’re scared that if you don’t, people will leave — or worse, pity you.

It’s hearing people say, “You seem so strong,” while you’re quietly wondering if you even have the energy to make it through tomorrow.

Today, I hoped someone would ask the right question.

Not the polite “How are you?”

But the real, “Hey, something feels off — do you want to talk?”

But no one did.

And I don’t blame them.

I’ve learned how to wear masks that fit too well.

Here’s the truth: I’m tired.

Not just physically, but emotionally.

Tired of pretending.

Tired of performing.

Tired of being everything for everyone, and nothing for myself.

And yet… I keep going.

Because somewhere inside me, I still believe it will get better.

Even if I can’t feel it yet.

So I’m writing this — for me, and for anyone else who’s pretending too.

If you’re reading this and you’re exhausted from acting like everything’s fine, let me say something clearly:

You’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re not alone.

You are carrying more than most people know — and still showing up. That is strength, even if it feels like survival.

Not all battles are loud.

Some look like a quiet person sitting at a desk, answering emails, smiling on cue — all while fighting to hold themselves together inside.

If no one told you today:

I see you.

I believe you.

You matter — even when no one notices.

Tomorrow might be better.

But even if it’s not, you’re still here.

And that’s enough.