I lie about being fine because it is an easy way to keep conversations from becoming awkward. Yes, I am going through something. Yes, it would help to get some of my darker emotions off my chest. But that does not mean I want to talk about my problems to every single person who approaches me. Most of the time, I would rather continue masquerading as someone who has her shit together. I don’t want the pity that comes along with admitting I am not okay. I do not want to ruin polite conversations with the truth.
I sometimes think of myself as weak, but in reality, I am afraid my loved ones are not strong enough to deal with the truth about what I am going through. I am afraid it will be too much for them to handle so I bear the weight of my problems on my own. I cannot protect myself from the demons trapped inside my mind, but I can at least protect them.
I lie about being fine because I have trouble verbalizing my pain. Words like tired and worried, or even words like anxious or depressed, do not get my point across. If someone has never experienced those emotions in the same way as me, then they will not be able to fully understand what I mean. And when they ask for clarification, when they try to get a better understanding of what I am experiencing, I will not know what to say. I will not be able to explain what not being okay feels like. I will not even be able to list the reasons why I am not okay. My emotions are not always tied to logic. Most of the time, they make no sense at all.
I lie about being fine because I understand how irrational my thinking can sound. Most of my worries do not make sense to me either but I cannot change my brain chemistry, I cannot make myself stop doing things, or thinking things, just because they are bad for me.
I do not need anyone around to judge me. I do not need them to tell me how unhealthy my actions are or can be. I already know. I already hate myself for it.
I lie about being fine because my loved ones want me to be fine. They want me to be happy. They want to know that I am doing okay. Even though I understand my illnesses are not my fault, I still feel guilty about being unable to give my loved ones that kind of comfort. I feel bad about being an extra reason for them to worry. It doesn’t feel fair.
Even though I know I should open up more, even though I realize it would be healthier to tell the truth, I still lie about being fine because it has become a habit. It is something I do without thinking. I am not trying to deceive anyone. I am only trying to make it through my day in one piece. And maybe a part of me believes that if I say the words enough, if I pretend enough, then it will turn into a reality.