The Weight of “I’m Fine”: A Personal Look at Hidden Anxiety
By Raja Butt | Published on November 1, 2025
When “I’m Fine” Becomes a Mask
There were days when I’d say, “I’m fine,” even when I felt like I was quietly falling apart. Those two words became a shield — not of strength, but of exhaustion. I learned early how to hold my pain behind polite smiles, because silence felt safer than being misunderstood. The truth is, “I’m fine” often hides the stories we’re too tired to tell.
I’ve come to realize that anxiety doesn’t always look like panic attacks or loud breakdowns. Sometimes it looks like getting through the day with a quiet ache in your chest. It’s that invisible weight you carry while keeping your world running. Through this piece, I want to open a small window into what that weight feels like — and why it’s time to stop pretending it isn’t there.
What Anxiety Hides Behind “I’m Fine”
Hidden anxiety often masks itself as overthinking, perfectionism, or constant busyness. Many of us live in survival mode, convincing ourselves that calm equals control. But anxiety is a quiet disruptor — it steals rest, joy, and connection.
Research from the American Psychological Association shows that people often underreport their anxiety symptoms due to fear of stigma or being perceived as weak. This silence makes it harder to heal. I know this silence well; it became a part of my daily routine, my unseen companion.
Learning to Speak Honestly
The first time I admitted I wasn’t okay, I felt exposed — like I was breaking an unspoken rule. But honesty, I discovered, is the first kind of freedom. When I finally told a friend, “I’m not fine today,” the world didn’t collapse. Instead, it softened.
Psychologist Brené Brown calls this vulnerability “courage in its purest form.” It’s not about oversharing — it’s about allowing our truth to breathe. Each time we speak honestly, we chip away at the shame that keeps us silent.
The Slow Path to Healing
Healing doesn’t happen in grand gestures. It comes in small, quiet moments — choosing rest over guilt, asking for help, letting yourself cry. I learned that healing from anxiety isn’t about becoming fearless, but learning to walk gently with your fear.
Today, when someone asks how I am, I try to pause before saying “I’m fine.” Sometimes, I still use those words — but now they’re not a mask. They’re an honest reflection of where I am, not who I have to be.
