The Art of Pretending I’m Fine

We are all phenomenal actors.
And the best part? Nobody had to audition.

Most days, when someone asks “How are you?”, the script kicks in automatically:
“I’m fine!”
A cheerful lie tossed into the world like confetti, even when something inside is quietly on fire.

At the supermarket: I’m fine (while choosing ice cream with the energy of someone making a life decision).
At work: I’m fine (while running on caffeine and existential dread).
At parties: I’m fine (while mentally googling “how to disappear without being rude”).

For a long time, I didn’t think twice about this performance.
But the last year, I’ve become painfully aware of how often I do it, and how much energy it costs.

The truth is, not everyone needs access to the backstage of my mind.
The neighbor I barely know? The cashier who already looks done with the day?
No need for a TED Talk on my emotional turbulence.

But some people do deserve a glimpse into my mental kitchen, not because I expect them to fix anything, but because letting someone see the mess can help them understand who you are.

Once, before a meeting, I casually mentioned something that was happening in my personal life. Later someone said she was glad I did, that it made me feel human and easier to connect with.
I realized that sometimes I forget: I don’t always have to be “the strong one.”
I can be the tough one ánd a sensitive person.

Meanwhile, my psychologist once pointed out that my “I’m fine” often comes with an entire novel hiding behind it.
She wasn’t wrong.

Fine can mean: freaking ensecure, not
Exposed.

Fine can mean:
I’m overwhelmed but don’t want to burden you. I’m angry but don’t think I’m allowed to be. I’m hurting but haven’t found the words yet.

For years, I thought strong meant silent.
Now I’m learning that strong can also mean honest.

Because the moment I feel safe?
Oh, then the mask comes off and the monologue begins.
My friends can confirm this. They’ve heard the same story 100 times in 100 emotional dialects.

Bless them.

We all deserve the kind of people who sit with us in the messy middle,
the ones who laugh with us, cry with us, complain with us and hold up a mirror without making us flinch.

So yes, I’m an excellent actress.
But I’m practicing a different script now.

The one where “I’m fine” sometimes becomes: Actually… today is a lot.
And I let someone stay long enough to hear the rest of the scene.

-Sophie Quinn