The Battles No One Sees

People often say, “You’ve got it all together.”And I nod. I smile. I say thank you. Because it’s easier than saying, “Actually, I’m barely holding on.”

What one would say success looks like.

The Battles No One Sees

From the outside looking in, my life may look polished. The business is growing. My social feeds are curated. I show up where I’m supposed to, I respond to emails, I check off to do lists, and I speak on stages with confidence. But beneath all that the titles, the brand, the composure there’s a version of me that’s tired. There’s a version of me that’s overwhelmed. There’s a version of me that’s quietly fighting battles I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Quietly Fighting

And the truth is, most people don’t know.

Some don’t ask. Some assume.

And some… well, I just can’t bring myself to tell.

When You’re the One Everyone Leans On

As a business owner, people come to me for answers.

As a son, I try to show up with strength.

As a friend, I’m the one who says, “Let me know what you need.”

But sometimes, I don’t even know what I need.

Or worse, I know and I don’t feel safe enough to say it out loud.

The Strong One

There’s a strange kind of loneliness that comes with being “the strong one.” You start to wonder who you’re allowed to break down in front of. You start to question if anyone really sees you, or if they only see what you do for them. You walk into rooms where people greet you with admiration, while your inner monologue is screaming, “I’m not okay.”

It’s exhausting.

It’s isolating.

And it’s real.

The Quiet Weight of Emotional Labor

There are days where I can’t sleep because I’m worried about the future of the business. Nights where my mind replays conversations I wish had gone differently with family, with friends, with myself.

2013 Thanksgiving

There are moments when the pressure to keep performing feels unbearable. When I wonder if it’s all worth it. When I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back at me because they’ve spent so long playing a role that no longer fits.

And then there are the flashpoints grief that resurfaces without warning. Memories of my father. Questions about who I am becoming. Doubts about whether I’m showing up in the ways I really want to. There’s this weight I carry, not just of responsibility, but of expectation. From others. From myself. From the life I thought I was supposed to be living by now.

Life looked so different in my dreams.

Why We Don’t Always Speak Up

So why don’t I say something? Why don’t I pick up the phone and let someone in?

Maybe because vulnerability has felt like a risk. Maybe because I’m scared people will start to see me differently. Or maybe because I’ve spent so long being okay that I don’t know how to be anything else.

Vulnerability has felt like a risk.

Sometimes I worry that if I open up, I’ll be met with discomfort or silence. Other times I think… maybe people are too busy. Maybe they don’t want to carry my pain when they’re already managing their own. Maybe no one really wants to know what’s behind the smile.

So I bottle it.I distract myself with work.I keep showing up. And I wait.

To Those Who Feel This Too

If you’re reading this and you feel seen in these words, I want you to know something: you’re not weak for struggling. You’re not broken for needing space. You’re not failing because you can’t keep up the mask all the time.

You are human. And what you’re carrying is valid.

There’s nothing wrong with you for needing help. For needing rest. For needing someone to ask how you’re doing and to really mean it.

We live in a world that applauds performance but rarely checks in on the person behind the scenes. It’s time we change that.

The world that applauds performance.

What I’m Learning (Even Slowly)

I’m learning that silence can be heavy. But sharing even a little can lighten the load.I’m learning that strength isn’t in pretending, it’s in allowing. I’m learning that sometimes, healing starts with simply saying, “I’m not okay right now.”

I don’t have it all figured out. Some days I still stay quiet. Some days I still convince myself I can muscle through. But I’m trying. I’m learning to trust that letting people in doesn’t make me a burden. It makes me brave.

Me and my Family at my Grand Opening in 2024

If You’ve Made It This Far

Thank you.

Thank you for giving me the space to be real. Thank you for not needing me to have a solution.Thank you for being a witness.

Maybe today, this post is my version of speaking up. And maybe tomorrow, you’ll have the courage to do the same.

And if you ever need someone to sit in the silence with you, know this: you’re not alone.

We are fighters!