The quiet ache of keeping it together while you’re falling apart inside
There are days when everything looks fine from the outside. You show up. You smile. You answer messages. You get things done. But inside, something is heavy. Like you’re holding a sadness that has no name, no explanation, no place to land. And the hardest part? No one seems to notice.
You can be surrounded by people, sitting in a room full of friends, even laughing at something dumb, and still feel completely alone. Not because you’re isolating yourself, but because there’s this quiet ache that no one sees. And maybe you’re good at hiding it. Maybe you’ve been doing that for so long it’s just second nature now.
Performing stability while feeling broken
There’s a strange skill we develop when we’ve been hurting for a while: we learn how to function while we’re falling apart. We go to work. We send the emails. We show up to birthday dinners. And all the while, there’s something inside us that’s slowly shutting down. Not because we want to, but because we don’t know how to ask for help without feeling like a burden.
People say things like “You seem so strong” or “You always have it together,” and you just nod. Because it’s easier than explaining that the only reason you seem strong is because you don’t feel like you have permission to fall apart.
The fear of being misunderstood
Part of the silence comes from fear. Fear of not being believed. Fear of being seen as dramatic. Fear of hearing someone say, “But you looked fine yesterday.” There’s something deeply painful about opening up and being met with confusion or minimisation.
So we keep it in. We cry in the shower. We bite our tongue when someone asks how we’re doing. We tell ourselves it’s not that bad. We convince ourselves to keep going because stopping feels too risky.
But just because no one sees it, doesn’t mean it’s not real. Just because you’re functioning doesn’t mean you’re okay.
What it means to be seen
Sometimes being seen isn’t about someone saying all the right things. It’s about someone noticing the pause in your voice. The forced laugh. The delay before answering “I’m fine.” It’s someone texting “I know you’re quiet, just checking in.”
And other times, being seen starts with you. With saying, “I know I look okay, but I’m not.” Even if your voice shakes. Even if it feels like too much. Even if you think they won’t understand. Because the truth is, some people won’t. But some will. And you deserve to find those people.
You’re not invisible
If this is you right now, holding a sadness that no one sees, I want you to know that you’re not broken. You’re not weak. You’re not being dramatic. You’re human. And you’re carrying something that was never meant to be carried alone.
You don’t have to explain everything. You don’t have to make it make sense. You just have to stop pretending you’re fine when you’re not. That’s the first step. That’s how we start to feel seen.