I have a confession to make: I am physically incapable of doing the “fine” thing.
You know the one. You’re at dinner, the tension is so thick you could slice it with a butter knife, and someone asks, “Is everything okay?” Most normal, socially calibrated humans would smile tightly and say, “Oh, I’m fine! Just tired.”
Me? My brain tries to say “fine,” but my soul starts screaming, and before I know it, I’m saying, “Actually, I’ve been thinking about that weird comment you made three Tuesdays ago about my choice of curtains, and it’s been haunting my dreams.”
The image I shared today is basically my life’s mission statement. If we can’t talk about it, we’re basically just two people standing in a room pretending we’re not breathing the same air. And let’s be real—air gets stale.
The Problem With the “Fine” Default
I’ve always been someone who needs open communication. I don’t say this to sound like a therapy textbook; I say it because I have zero “chill.” In my world, silence isn’t golden—it’s loud. It’s like a high-pitched ringing in my ears that only goes away once someone finally admits that, yes, the vibe is weird.
The Dangers of the Silent Treatment
Here’s what I’ve learned about the “Silent Treatment” or the “Sweeping It Under the Rug” method:
- The Rug Becomes a Mountain: Eventually, you’re going to trip over that rug. You can’t keep hiding things under there and expect to have a flat floor to walk on.
- Distance is Stealthy: Silence builds distance. One day you’re best friends, and the next, you realize you haven’t had a real conversation in six months because you’re both too scared to mention the “elephant” that has now taken up permanent residence in the guest room.
- The Brain is a Liar: When we don’t talk, my brain fills in the gaps with the worst possible scenarios. If you don’t tell me why you’re annoyed, I will assume it’s because of something I did in a past life.
The Exhausting Reality of Clearing the Air
I won’t lie to you: being the person who “clears the air” is exhausting. It means I’m often the one initiating the Uncomfortable Talk™.
I’ve had family dinners where I’ve had to say, “Hey, can we stop talking about my dating life and focus on how good this mashed potato is?” I’ve had friendships where I’ve had to admit, “I felt really left out when you guys went to that concert without me.”
Is it cringey in the moment? Absolutely. My palms get sweaty, my heart does a drum solo, and I usually wish I could teleport to a different dimension. But you know what’s worse? Carrying the weight of what’s unsaid. That stuff is heavy! It’s like carrying a backpack full of bricks everywhere you go. I’d rather have five minutes of “ugh, this is awkward” than five months of “why do I feel like I’m walking on eggshells?”
Troubleshooting the System
This applies to everyone in my life. If you’re my friend, my family, or even the person who makes my coffee—if there’s a glitch in the system, let’s troubleshoot it.
I’m not interested in “pretending” things are fine. I’m a terrible actor anyway (I once tried to fake-cry in a high school play and just ended up sneezing). I want the real stuff. I want the messy, honest, “I’m annoyed at you but I still love you” conversations. Because that’s where the growth happens.
A Call for Messy, Honest Conversations
If you’re reading this and you’ve got something weighing on you—just say it. Text the friend. Call your sister. Tell your partner that the way they chew their ice is actually driving you to the brink of insanity.
It might feel like you’re dropping a bomb, but really, you’re just opening a window. Let some fresh air in. Trust me, it’s much easier to breathe once the air is clear.
Stay honest (and maybe a little bit awkward),
Tina