Yin and Yang: Where My Authenticity Finds Balance

lindsay-michele
May 6
5 min read

I am someone who shows up fully in every moment. No matter where I am, I try to be present, to engage with what’s right in front of me. I believe in finding the silver lining in all situations, no matter how dark, how painful, or how impossible things seem. I have this innate ability to see the good in people, even when the world has shown me its worst.

My optimism is a core part of who I am. I’ve been known to find a positive in every negative situation, to keep pushing forward no matter what life throws my way. I’ve spent so much time training my mind to focus on what’s right, even when everything else feels wrong. This is my authentic self: the person who keeps the hope alive, the one who believes that the light can be found, even in the darkest of places.

I truly believe that love is all that matters. Even when it doesn’t feel like it in the moment, love always wins in the end. It’s my core belief, no matter the hurt, no matter the struggle. I’ve always chosen to lead with love, even when I’ve been treated in ways that don’t deserve it. Whether it’s with friends, strangers, or those who hurt me, I always choose kindness, because I believe love — even in small moments — has the power to change everything. It’s not about perfection or expecting anything in return, it’s just who I am. Love, for me, is the most powerful force, and even in the hardest times, I trust that it will always prevail.

But while this is the side of me that most people see, there’s another side that is often hidden. The one I don’t often share with the world — the part of me that is tired, overwhelmed, and struggling to keep going. The side of me that feels the weight of everything, the one who carries burdens that no one else can see.

We all have our stories — the ones we show the world, the ones we share with our closest friends, and then there’s the one that stays behind closed doors. The one that never gets told. The one no one sees, or sometimes, the one we’re too afraid to share because we feel like no one would understand.

On the outside, everything might seem fine. I go through the motions, I smile when I need to, and I take care of what needs to be done. But inside, there’s a storm, a battle that no one can see.

It’s in the quiet moments, when no one’s watching, that the weight of it all truly sinks in. The exhaustion isn’t just physical — it’s mental, emotional, and at times, spiritual. It’s the constant feeling of being pulled in a hundred different directions, trying to keep everything together while falling apart inside.

What people don’t see is the quiet fight happening every single day. The fight to keep my head above water, to find peace in the chaos, to keep moving forward when it feels like the weight of the world is pushing me back. And most days, I feel like I’m failing — not because I’m not trying, but because no matter how much I fight, I’m still stuck in a situation I have no control over.

It’s exhausting. The world might think I’m handling it all, but the reality is, I’m barely holding on. Every day is a new battle. And some days, it feels like I’m just existing, not really living. But nobody sees that.

People don’t see the hours I spend lying awake at night, trying to quiet my mind from all the worries and anxieties. They don’t see the emotional weight I carry when I don’t have anyone to lean on, when I don’t have a safe space to rest. The expectations of being strong and resilient are constant, and at times, I wonder if anyone would even notice if I broke down.

It’s easy for the outside world to assume that everything is fine when you’re good at hiding the pain. You keep moving, you keep showing up, you keep smiling — but behind closed doors, the truth is far different.

What they don’t see is how many times I’ve cried in silence, how many moments I’ve wanted to scream out for help but swallowed those words because no one would understand — or they might just turn away. They don’t see how many times I’ve had to fake being okay when the truth is, I’m breaking inside. The truth is, I’m not okay, and that’s okay to admit.

The exhaustion, the anxiety, the weight of everything I carry — it doesn’t just disappear because I’m good at hiding it. It lingers, and it wears me down, piece by piece, until I don’t even recognize myself anymore. But still, I go on. Still, I push forward, because what else can I do?

What people don’t see is the constant mental and emotional load that I carry alone. The weight of responsibilities, the pressures that never seem to end, and the continuous fight to protect my peace in a world that never stops pushing against it. It’s a fight I didn’t choose, but one that’s forced upon me every single day.

Even when you do everything “right,” even when you work on yourself, set boundaries, and do the inner work — the outside world doesn’t always allow that peace to stay. Sometimes, it feels like no matter how much I try to heal, the weight of others’ actions keeps pulling me back into the same space of exhaustion and survival. And that, in itself, is draining.

But here’s the thing. Even when nobody sees the pain, even when it feels like the world has turned a blind eye, I’m still here. Still fighting. Still trying. Still finding ways to move forward, even if those steps feel incredibly small.

Even in the moments when I’m barely hanging on, I still trust that there’s a bigger picture I can’t always see. I trust that my higher self knows the path, even when I feel lost and disconnected from the world around me. I choose to stay optimistic, knowing that this battle isn’t the end of my story. The universe, in its own way, is working with me, guiding me to the place where peace and freedom await.

And that’s the reality behind closed doors. The one where strength isn’t seen in loud actions, but in the quiet moments of persistence. The moments where I show up for myself and for my kids, even when I’m exhausted beyond measure.

So if you’re reading this and you’re fighting your own battle behind closed doors, know that you’re not alone. Your fight matters. Your strength matters. Even when nobody sees it, you are still fighting, and that’s worth honoring. And even when it feels impossible, remember that the universe is working with you, and better days are ahead.