Why "I'm Fine" Might Be the Most Dangerous Lie You Tell

"How are you?"

"I'm fine!"

I said those words for years. In the church lobby with coffee in hand. In the grocery store when I ran into someone from Bible study. In text messages to friends who had no idea I was falling apart.

I had perfected the art of looking fine while drowning.

Maybe you know what I'm talking about. Maybe you're reading this right now with a smile you've been wearing all day—the one that doesn't quite reach your eyes. Maybe you answered "I'm good!" three times today when the truth was so much heavier.

Here's what I've learned the hard way: "I'm fine" isn't just a social nicety. For many of us, it's become a survival strategy that's slowly killing us.

The Exhaustion of Hiding

Hiding takes so much energy. You have to remember which version of yourself you showed to which person. You have to manage your facial expressions, your tone, your stories. You have to arrive early enough to compose yourself and leave before the mask slips.

I used to think I was protecting people by hiding my struggles. I told myself they couldn't handle the real me. That my mess would be too much. That good Christian women don't struggle with those things.

But the truth? I was terrified. Terrified of rejection. Terrified of judgment. Terrified that if anyone saw the real me—the anxious, struggling, sometimes barely-holding-it-together me—they would walk away.

So I kept performing. And the loneliness nearly destroyed me.

What Hiding Really Costs Us

When we hide, we don't just hide our struggles. We hide ourselves. And in doing so, we cut ourselves off from the very things we desperately need: authentic connection, real support, and the healing that only comes through vulnerability.

James 5:16 tells us to "confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." Did you catch that? Confession and community lead to healing. Not perfection. Not having it all together. Confession.

The enemy wants you isolated. He wants you believing you're the only one who struggles with that. He wants you exhausted from performing, convinced that your mask is the only thing keeping people around.

But that's a lie. And it's keeping you stuck.

The Freedom of Being Known

I'll never forget the first time I told someone the whole truth about my life. My hands were shaking. My voice cracked. I was convinced she would never look at me the same way.

Instead, she exhaled and said, "Me too."

Two words. Two words that cracked open years of isolation. Two words that reminded me I wasn't alone, wasn't crazy, wasn't too much.

That's what happens when we risk being seen. We give others permission to stop hiding too. Our vulnerability becomes someone else's invitation.

A First Step

I'm not asking you to share your deepest secrets with everyone you meet. Vulnerability requires wisdom and safe people. But I am asking you to consider: Where have you been hiding? And what would it look like to let one trusted person see the real you?

Maybe it's a friend who has earned your trust. Maybe it's a counselor or pastor. Maybe it's a small group where you can finally stop performing.

You don't have to have it all figured out before you reach out. You don't have to clean yourself up first. You just have to be willing to say, "I'm not fine. And I need you to know that."

Grace meets us in the honesty, not in the hiding.