Today I had the worst headache I can remember.
It was not those small cute headaches that respond to Panadol. This was a full-blown stones in my head type of headache. It started as pressure behind my eyes. I tried to ignore it at first. Drank water. Took a painkiller. Adjusted my glasses. I told myself it would pass. It didn’t. I had back-to-back meetings. Those meetings where you are not just attending but are leading, facilitating discussions and you are the one expected to be clear, sharp, present with the camera on.
By mid-morning, the headache had settled in properly. The light from the screen felt harsher than usual. I found myself squinting at slides I had prepared myself. At one point, someone asked me a question, but I needed more than a couple of seconds to gather it through the noise in my head. And I couldn't exactly say, “hold on, my brain is buffering because my head hurts.” I turned my camera off once or twice and pressed my fingers into my temples like that would rearrange something inside. Then camera back on all composed and professional kumbe, I was not ok.
And then I thought...
How many people are walking around carrying something behind their eyes? Something throbbing quietly while they smile in meetings or at dinners and say, “I’m fine.” We see people functioning and assume everything inside is working well. But sometimes someone is showing up and holding themselves together at the same time.
Sometimes it is heartache. Sometimes it is worry. Sometimes it is quiet grief or a heavy responsibility no one else knows about. Exhaustion? Things we do not have the luxury to postpone, ignore or forget? We carry so much quietly and keep going. Perhaps that is why we should be kinder with each other.
From where my feet are, I realised that showing up does not mean you are okay. It just means you showed up. And maybe the wiser thing is not to power through every time. A headache is never just a headache. Maybe the wiser thing is to listen. Maybe the wiser thing is to pause, or ask for help.
This resonates far beyond a headache.
ReplyDeleteIn everyday life, so many of us are “camera on” even when something inside is not okay. We show up while quietly managing pressure behind the eyes that no one else can see.
Sometimes it’s financial stress. Sometimes it’s relationship strain. Sometimes it’s grief, uncertainty, or just deep exhaustion. But the world only sees that we are functioning.
This piece (Peace) reminders us that showing up does not automatically mean someone is fine — it just means they chose to be present. And many people deserve more credit for that quiet courage.
It also gently challenges us: to extend grace. To be slower to judge. To check in. To normalize saying, “I need a moment,” without feeling weak because powering through has its place — but so does pausing.
This is so profound. Many people are doing the most to just wake up and keep showing up
ReplyDeleteBe kind enough after all that to go and rest. Sometimes this idea of perfection and performance will be a weight wee will have to put down every so often just so we can show kindness to ourselves that we offer the rest of the world. Enjoy your cup of coffee or glass of wine and just listen to the birds.... You deserve it
ReplyDeleteI think the question is why we do it.
ReplyDelete1. Are we trying to show the world that we've got it all together?
2. Are we afraid of revealing chinks in our armour?
3. Do we hope that by always putting our best foot forward (even if its the limping one) that somehow we'll be taken more seriously?
4. Do we just know that the world really doesn't care how you're feeling?
5. Is it just an adulting thing?
6. Is it because we've previously rolled our eyes at other people who've shown vulnerability and now that its our turn on the dance floor, we dare not?
7. Are we just built that way, that we have this innate drive to give 100% even though we have 10% in the tank?
8. Is it something in our training?
9. Is it what the gravy train demands?
10. Or is it that we just don't know any other way of telling the world that we've just need a break
I'm asking myself these questions because I'm culprit No.1 when it comes to "toughing it up"
Profound!
ReplyDeleteThis is a crucial reminder that presence is not the same as well-being. People have become masters of disguise. We learn to put on a "game face," to smile to nod, to be productive and participate, all while carrying a heavy, invisible load.
We often assume that if someone is functional and present, they must be fine. But functioning is a baseline for survival, not a sign of thriving.
If we accept that we can never truly know what someone else is going through, then the only logical response is to lead with kindness…. and this kind of kindness isn't always about grand gestures. It's the small, consistent things!
Pain is part and parcel of life. Some of it whispers, like the quiet headache you suppress while you conduct meetings and smile through conversations. Some of it screams, physical, emotional, unexpected.
ReplyDeletePain is a warning signal. It reminds us that we are human.
A few weeks ago, my 24-year-old niece suffered a slipped disc. She had to be evacuated by ambulance. The pain was so intense she couldn’t sit, stand, or even turn without assistance. A therapist now comes daily just to help her move. Watching someone so young endure that kind of pain changes you. You realise how fragile we are, how much we take for granted: standing, walking, even turning in bed.
There are different dimensions to pain. The bearable kind we carry quietly while coordinating meetings and making decisions. And the unbearable kind that stops life in its tracks.
In business, in relationships, in life, I have learnt that some pain is not punishment. Sometimes it is preparation. The strain, the pressure, the sleepless nights, they can be precursors to breakthrough. And strangely, once you reach the other side, you don’t resent that season as much. You understand it. You even appreciate what it built in you.
Perhaps pain is not only suffering. Perhaps it is perspective. Perhaps it is shaping and perhaps it is the very thing that teaches us not to take life for granted.
Thank you for putting into words what so many of us live silently.
ReplyDeleteWhen someone not close greets me, I often say “Iam fine” simply to avoid having to explain myself.
On the outside, we function, we smile, we socialise.
On the inside, we are losing sleep, managing worries, and carrying burdens.