You tell yourself you’re managing. You’re functioning. You go to work, you take care of people, you keep the basics moving, and you try to act normal so nobody asks questions you can’t answer.
But “managing” often looks like this: you feel tired even after sleep, you isolate because it’s easier than pretending, and you get stuck in that loop where everything feels heavy and urgent at the same time. Some days it’s numb and flat. Other days it’s buzzing panic. Either way, it’s exhausting living inside your own head.
And sometimes it gets more specific than you want to admit. You’re lying in bed at 3:00 AM with your heart racing, replaying conversations from the week, convinced everyone saw through your “I’m fine” act. Or you’re sitting in your car in the driveway for twenty minutes before you can go inside, trying to get your face right so you don’t worry the people who love you.