Being real in environments built for masks and performance
It’s wild how much time we spend at work and how little of ourselves we’re actually allowed to bring into those spaces. Or maybe it’s not even about being allowed, maybe we’ve just learned that it’s safer to leave parts of us out. The sensitive part, the confused part, the scared part, the honest part. All the parts that make us human. Because being human at work isn’t always rewarded.
Professionalism or emotional disconnection?
I used to think being professional meant keeping it all together. No visible stress, no oversharing, no emotional messiness. But somewhere along the line, that started to feel less like strength and more like pretending. And pretending is exhausting. Pretending to be okay when you’re not. Pretending to care about things that don’t matter to you. Pretending you’re not bothered by dynamics that clearly hurt.
The truth is, the way a lot of workplaces are structured doesn’t leave much room for emotional honesty. You’re expected to be efficient, productive, adaptable. But vulnerable? Reflective? Not so much. There’s this unspoken rule that feelings slow things down. And if you’re the one who brings them into the room, you risk being seen as dramatic or unprofessional.
Therapy ruined office small talk for me
Once you start doing the work of getting to know yourself better in therapy, in relationships, in honest conversations shallow spaces start to feel extra hollow. It’s not that you expect every coworker to be your soulmate, but it gets harder to sit in rooms where no one’s saying what they really mean. You notice the power plays, the fakeness, the emotional avoidance, and it becomes harder to unsee.
You’re in a meeting and someone says, “we just need better communication,” but what they mean is, “I feel ignored and I’m afraid to speak up.” And no one says that out loud because we’ve all been trained to speak in corporate language. And suddenly you’re in a room full of people saying nothing real and wondering why everything feels so disconnected.
The loneliness of emotional awareness
Being emotionally intelligent in a space that doesn’t value it can feel lonely. You pick up on dynamics others don’t see. You sense tension, frustration, burnout even when no one’s talking about it. You understand the human layer behind people’s behaviour, but you also carry the emotional weight of that awareness.
Sometimes, it feels like emotional maturity turns you into the team sponge the one who holds things others don’t even notice. And if you’re not careful, you start absorbing everyone’s stuff until you forget where yours ends and theirs begins.
Small acts of emotional resistance
Even in workplaces that don’t encourage depth, there are ways to stay emotionally connected to yourself. It can be in the small moments. The quick check-in with a colleague who looks off. The honest answer when someone asks how you are and you’re actually not okay. The boundary you set when your body says, “I can’t do more today.”
These might sound like little things, but they’re acts of resistance in spaces that prefer emotional autopilot. They remind you that you’re still there. Still human. Still feeling.
Redefining professionalism to include being human
What if professionalism didn’t mean hiding our emotions, but holding them with care? What if we allowed space for pauses, for honesty, for conversations that went one layer deeper than surface level updates? What if emotional intelligence was seen as a strength, not a liability?
I don’t think it’s about making work into therapy. But I do think we need more room to be people. Because when we’re allowed to be real, we also do better work. We collaborate better. We trust more. We burnout less. And maybe, just maybe, we enjoy showing up a little more.