The Danger of Being “Fine”

F – Faking

I – Ignoring

N – Neglecting

E – Evading

We say it every day:

“I’m fine.”

It rolls off the tongue effortlessly — a convenient answer, a way to avoid uncomfortable conversations. But let’s be honest: when we say we’re “fine,” more often than not, we’re not.

We’re faking peace.

We’re ignoring pain.

We’re neglecting ourselves.

We’re evading vulnerability.

And over time, those four little letters carry an invisible weight that can crush even the strongest among us.

The Weight of Pretending

Imagine this:

You’ve spent years training for a marathon. You’ve studied the route, strengthened your body, and prepared your mind. The big day arrives. You feel ready. You start strong — your pace is steady, your lungs are full, and your heart is light.

But then something unexpected happens.

At mile five, someone hands you a 5-pound vest. You’re surprised, but you carry on.

A few miles later, that vest is swapped for a 10-pound one. Still manageable.

Then comes a 15. Then 20. And you keep running.

By mile 20, you’re carrying 75 extra pounds. Your stride falters. Your legs tremble. You slow to a walk. Eventually, you collapse. Not from lack of preparation — but from accumulated weight you were never meant to carry alone.

This is what emotional suppression feels like. And for many, it’s what marriage becomes.

Marriage and the Marathon

You begin preparing for this race young — shaping expectations, learning love, building dreams. Then you meet someone. You fall hard. You feel alive. You get engaged, then married. The starting line.

The early years feel effortless. There’s laughter, intimacy, connection. You’re running strong.

But then life starts handing you weights:

A stressful job.

Sleepless nights with a newborn.

A never-ending cycle of bills, chores, and obligations.

Misunderstandings that turn into arguments.

Unspoken hurt that festers into resentment.

Your spouse asks how you're doing, and you say it again:

“I’m fine.”

That’s the first vest.

You keep walking, unaware of just how much heavier things will get if you keep bottling it all up.

You ignore the discomfort, because there are kids to feed, deadlines to meet, soccer games, laundry, family events. So, you smile through the silence. You go to bed angry. You skip the deep talks. You drift.

And all the while, you’re strapping on more weight — silently, invisibly.

More distance between you. Less laughter. Less sex. Less presence. More tension. More distractions.

And still, you tell yourself — and each other — “we’re fine.”

But you’re not

.

You’re tired. You’re lonely. You’re buried under years of unspoken truths.

And you’re not even halfway through the race.

Unload the Weight

This marathon — marriage — isn’t won with grand gestures or perfect performances. It’s run mile by mile, choice by choice, word by word. And one of the most powerful choices you can make is to stop saying “I’m fine” when you’re not.

Start saying something real.

“I’m overwhelmed.”

“I’m hurt.”

“I’m lonely.”

“I need you.”

“I miss us.”

Every honest word is like shedding a pound. Every vulnerable moment is a breath of fresh air for your relationship. Communication isn’t just about sharing information — it’s about sharing burdens. Because life is heavy, and you were never meant to carry it alone.

So, if your spouse says, “I’m fine,” don’t just take it at face value. Lean in. Ask again. Make space. Make time. Create safety. The strongest marriages aren’t built by perfect people — they’re built by honest ones.

The Real Finish Line

You want to make it to year 20? 40? 60?

Then stop pretending. Stop faking strength. Stop evading what’s real.

Unload the weight — early, often, together.

Because you deserve more than “fine.”

You deserve freedom, connection, and a love that’s light enough to carry — and strong enough to last.

And let’s be clear: this doesn’t mean you have to have it all together. You don’t. None of us do.

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” — Philippians 3:12

That verse isn’t just spiritual encouragement — it’s a posture for life and marriage. You’re not expected to be perfect. You’re not supposed to have reached the summit. But you are called to keep pressing on — to keep growing, healing, leaning in. Not faking it. Not ignoring the pain. But naming it, facing it, and trusting that something greater is holding you as you move forward.

So press on — not as someone who’s arrived, but as someone who refuses to settle for just “fine.”

Article by Skyler G.