The easiest lie we tell ourselves — and those around us — is this simple phrase: “I’m fine.”
It’s so easy to say. To splurge it in the moment and never stop to ask if we truly are.
Society imposes strict boundaries on us — and we all know it. Every day is a rat race. We’re expected to excel in our studies, earn degrees, get promoted, build a career, and start a family — all by a certain age. Many authors have raised this topic countless times, and yet everyone continues with their day-to-day lives, nodding in agreement while doing exactly the same.
Since childhood, we’re taught to be strong, not to complain, not to cry. To suppress our emotions, hold it all together, and keep moving forward no matter what.
At least, I was taught this. My parents were stricter with me than with my sister.
Crying in public? Weak.
Asking for help? Embarrassing.
Showing symptoms? Attention-seeking.
This is how I learned to say “I’m fine,” never meaning it. This phrase became so automatic, it turned into a reflex. A way to suppress everything I was truly feeling — even when a ninth-wave storm was raging inside me. Even when I was holding on for one final breath.
I ignored the signals my body was sending. I tried not to notice that I was standing on the edge, and everything could collapse at any moment. I forced myself forward, whispering: “I must.”
I disregarded my health — both mental and physical — as if it were something I could sacrifice. As if being well didn’t matter.
And if you ask me why? Now, looking back, I can answer honestly: I was afraid. Afraid that I wouldn’t fit into society’s standards. Afraid of missing the milestones — the promotion, the apartment, the marriage — all those things I was supposed to have by now.
Your success in life is not defined by someone else’s phantom checklist. You define it.
Everyone has their own timeline, their own values, their own version of success. What looks perfect for one person may feel meaningless to another. And only you can define your place in life — and where you’re meant to be.
But I learned this the hard way.
I reached a point where I started having panic attacks during work meetings — and still tried to pretend that everything was fine.
I still tried to ignore it.
Still tried to power through it.
Still tried to lie to myself.
That’s the price of saying “I’m fine” for too long.
I don’t say “I’m fine” anymore unless I truly mean it. And if I’m not? I give myself permission to say: “I’m not okay.” Because honesty is the first step out of the storm.
I spent years whispering “I’m fine” to hide from the world.
Now I whisper something else —
“I’m here. I’m listening. I’m healing.”And that, finally, is more than enough.
No pressure. No noise. Just letters from a woman learning to breathe again.
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