If Only You Knew: The Truth Behind "Handling It Well"

The Hidden Struggles We Face

“You handled it so well.”

If only you knew.

If only you knew what it really looked like — because the truth is, it wasn’t hidden at all. It was right there in plain sight for everyone to see. But somewhere along the way, when you keep hearing “you’re overreacting” or “just move on” or “you’re too sensitive,” you stop showing people how much you’re hurting.

You learn that no one really wants to see the truth. They want you to seem okay. They want you to look like you’re moving on. So you give them that — even when it costs you everything inside.

The Cost of Pretending

That’s what handling it well really was. Not strength. Not peace. Just survival… and performance.

I kept my smile in place. I kept my voice steady. I kept showing up. Because every time I didn’t, every time I slipped, the judgment hit even harder.

And the worst part? It was exhausting because none of it was hidden. It was right there. The exhaustion in my eyes. The way my body sagged under the weight of it all. The way my laugh was just a little too forced. The way I kept pausing mid-sentence, searching for words because I was too tired to think straight.

All of it was visible. But you didn’t really want to see it.

The Burden of Dismissal

So I buried it. Because when people dismiss your pain enough times, it becomes easier to pretend than to explain.

Every single day became another round of pretending. Pretending that I wasn’t falling apart. Pretending that I was fine. Pretending that I wasn’t drowning.

And maybe you admired it. Maybe you even told me how impressed you were with how “strong” I seemed… how “gracefully” I handled it all.

But what you didn’t see was the aftermath. You didn’t see me curled up at night, too wired to sleep but too exhausted to move. You didn’t hear the self-doubt screaming in my mind. You didn’t feel the weight of that fake smile slipping off as soon as the door closed behind me.

You saw strength — I felt fragile. You saw grace — I felt heavy. You saw composure — I felt like I was barely holding on.

The Invisible Exhaustion

That’s the part no one talks about. When you’re told to get over it, you learn to stop showing how much it’s breaking you. You learn to hide your pain in plain sight. And eventually, your exhaustion becomes invisible — not because you’ve healed but because you’ve performed it away.

The truth is, I didn’t handle it so well. I just got good at hiding how much it hurt. I just got good at pushing it down so no one would give me one more thing to carry — their judgment, their opinions, their impatience with my grief, my struggle, my mess.

But that performance had a price. It left me drained. Disconnected from myself. Lonely in ways that words can’t even explain.

The Weight of Expectations

Because when you live in a world that praises how well you’re “handling it,” you feel like you can’t ever stop. You can’t ever let the mask slip. You can’t ever say, “Actually, I’m not okay.”

So I kept going. And every day felt heavier. And every day the space between who I really was and who I was pretending to be grew wider.

If only you knew.

If only you knew that “handling it well” doesn’t mean peace. That a steady voice doesn’t mean I’m okay. That a smile doesn’t mean I’m not breaking.

If only you knew that strength isn’t always real. Sometimes it’s just a shield we learn to carry so we don’t have to defend ourselves against the people who judge our pain.

A Call to Awareness

And maybe that’s why this needs to be said out loud — for anyone else out there drowning in plain sight. For anyone who’s faking calm because it’s safer than being called dramatic or weak.

You are not weak. You are not overreacting. You are not too sensitive.

You are carrying the weight of being dismissed, minimized, and ignored — and that’s heavier than most people will ever understand.

So if you’re reading this and it feels familiar, I see you. You don’t have to perform. You don’t have to smile if it hurts. You don’t have to pretend you’re handling it so well when the truth is, you’re exhausted.

You are allowed to not be okay. You are allowed to fall apart. You are allowed to show it — even if they don’t want to see it.

The Importance of Listening

And if you’re someone watching from the outside? The next time you’re tempted to tell someone they’re “handling it so well,” pause.

Look deeper. Ask how they really are — and be ready to listen. Because some of us learned to hide our struggle so well that you stopped noticing it… even though it’s been right there, in plain sight, this whole time.

With raw truth and resilience,

Lindsay-Michele

🖤 www.lindsay-michele.com | @downtherabbithole.lm

I share my story so that anyone walking this road knows they’re not alone. If this resonates with you, stay a while — you’re seen here.