Mojo and the Mess

I don’t blame the people around me for not understanding how bad it gets sometimes.

They only know what I’ve shown them.

And what I’ve shown them — for a long time — is that I can handle anything.

But here’s the truth:

I did myself a disservice by making this look easier than it is.

By softening the edges of my pain.

By hiding the fatigue behind makeup, jokes, and “I’m fine.”

I taught everyone that I was okay, and now no one knows what it means when I’m not.

The Quiet Pressure to Be the “Strong One”

It started small — the polite kind of pretending.

A smile in the waiting room. A “good day” text to someone who was worried.

Then it became habit. Then it became armor.

I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want to make people uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be that person whose presence made the room feel heavy.

So I stayed upbeat. I said “I’m tired” instead of “I’m in agony.”

I joked about hospital food and called chemo “spa day” to make people laugh.

And every time I did that, I built a version of myself that people could handle — not the one who actually exists.

Normalizing the Impossible

There were nights I went out knowing I should’ve stayed in bed.

Days I showed up smiling while my bones screamed and my head spun.

I’ve sat through dinners where every bite felt like swallowing glass.

But I wanted normalcy so badly that I faked it.

I convinced myself that showing up half-alive was better than not showing up at all.

And in doing that, I convinced everyone else that I was fine — even on the days I was barely functioning.

People started saying things like, “You’re such a fighter,” or “You make it look easy.”

They meant it as a compliment.

They didn’t realize it broke my heart a little every time.

Because if I make it look easy, no one knows how hard it really is.

When Rest Becomes a Red Flag

Now, when I cancel plans, people assume something must be really wrong.

When I say I need to rest, there’s panic in their eyes.

When I turn down an invitation, I can almost hear the worry in their silence — Is she getting worse?

But the truth is, it’s always been this bad.

I just stopped letting anyone see it.

I taught them that I could keep up. That I could push through anything. That my 10/10 pain was still somehow manageable.

So now, when I finally let myself rest, it feels like I’m disappointing people.

Like I’m breaking a promise I never meant to make.

The Guilt That Comes With Being Honest

I’m learning that honesty has consequences when you’ve built your identity around resilience.

People see you as their anchor. Their fighter. Their reminder that “things could be worse.”

And the moment you say, “Actually, this really sucks,” the illusion cracks.

But I can’t keep protecting people from the truth of what this life feels like.

I can’t keep pretending this is easy just because it makes others more comfortable watching me go through it.

Because I am tired.

Not the kind of tired that a nap fixes — the kind that seeps into your bones and lingers behind your smile.

The kind that comes from carrying your own pain and everyone else’s discomfort with it.

Teaching People How to See Me Again

I don’t need people to fix it. I just need them to understand that the version of me they’ve seen isn’t the full story.

That “doing better” doesn’t always mean “feeling better.”

That some days, showing up looks like staying in bed.

I’m starting to show the truth again — slowly, carefully.

I’m saying “I can’t” without a list of excuses.

I’m letting silence be the answer sometimes.

I’m learning to believe that I don’t owe anyone my endurance.

Because I’ve spent enough years proving I can keep going.

Now I just want to be allowed to stop.

The New Lesson

If I taught people that I was fine, I can teach them something else.

That pain can exist quietly and still matter.

That strength can look like rest.

That survival isn’t about pretending — it’s about enduring in whatever form you can.

So here’s the new truth:

I’m not fine all the time.

And that’s okay.

I don’t need to make it look easy anymore. I just need to make it honest.

Subscriber Note 💌

If you’ve ever convinced the world you were okay just to make it through the day — you’re seen here.

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