August 9, 2026
There is a difference between privacy and pretending.
It’s been a long time since I wrote on Medium.
By Nikki
1 min read
Today, I felt like writing.
Today I had a call with a friend. Not so close, but a friend.
She asked me about my marriage.
I couldn't help but tell her what's been happening in my life lately.
Not in a dramatic way. Not to get sympathy. Just as a fact. This is what's happening.
When the call ended, I felt a sense of peace.
Nothing had changed. My situation was still the same.
But I wasn't carrying the weight of pretending anymore.
That's when I realized something.
People usually say sharing our sorrows with someone makes us feel better.
I agree.
Maybe part of it is that our pain feels lighter.
But I think there's another reason we don't talk about enough.
Sharing reduces the need to pretend that everything is fine.
Maybe that's the real relief.
Not that someone understood us. Not that someone gave us a solution.
Just that… for a few minutes… we didn't have to pretend.
And then another thought stayed with me.
It made me wonder why pretending feels so natural in the first place.
The world can only respond to what it sees.
It sees that you went to work. It sees that you smiled. It sees that you showed up.
It cannot see the conversations you have with yourself. It cannot see the fear, the grief, the waiting, the confusion.
The hardest parts stay invisible.
For a long time, I protected that invisible part of me.
Now I think I was protecting an image more than myself.
My scars don't feel private anymore.
They are part of me.
When I speak about them, I'm not asking for sympathy.