Faking It, Denial, and the Search for What's Real

I’ve always been in love with authenticity. It’s what draws me to certain people—the ones who are genuine, honest, and unfiltered. There’s something about that rawness that feels so deeply human to me.

I also hold the belief—perhaps naively—that people are inherently decent. Not malicious. I know that sounds idealistic, and yes, I’m aware of it. But I choose to believe that we’re all struggling, just trying to do our best with what we have.

So the phrase “fake it till you make it” has always confused me. It feels like it betrays that core belief in being real. And yet—ironically—I’ve done it myself.

I spend a lot of my days pretending I’m fine. Not exactly living in denial, but definitely brushing over things that actually hurt. I’ve mastered the art of casually trivializing the things that sit heavy on me.

Sometimes, that trickery gets me through the day. But over time, it became so habitual that I stopped being able to tell what was authentic and what was performative—especially when it came to my emotions.

When Denial Becomes Default

Recently, I fell sick. I told myself it was just a cold, nothing major. Day three came, and I was much worse—physically exhausted and confused about how I got there.

Even then, I doubted myself: “Am I exaggerating? Is it really that bad?” I’ve gotten so used to swinging between extremes that this second-guessing felt normal.

A friend suggested I see a doctor. I immediately resisted. “What? I’m fine. Just a bit of cough, body ache, fever, chills…” By the fourth denial, even I had to laugh at myself.

I was sick. No amount of pretending could change that. And I wasn’t getting better until I stopped faking it.

Mind Over Matter... But at What Cost?

Sure, mind over matter is a thing. But my mind was faking wellness, and my body had had enough. It made me wonder—was I faking it, or was I just avoiding what was real?

For me, denial has always been a distraction from reality. The signs were there—I just chose to ignore them. Because sometimes facing the truth feels scarier than the consequences of pretending.

The Slow Return to Self

I do this in so many areas: relationships, work, health. I’m a hypocrite—and I say that with awareness. These days, I’ve started being more honest about what I’m faking. Whether it's unmet emotional needs or physical discomfort, I try to name it.

I still believe in gentle reassurance—telling yourself you’ll be okay. But it doesn’t have to come at the cost of denying what’s real.

Ironically, it took falling *really* sick—and seeing others who consistently met their needs—for me to get this. The contrast showed me how little I had been showing up for myself.

It’s not always fun to admit how you feel. But it is freeing. And I’m learning that the more I do it, the more I come home to myself.