The Act I Put On

Protecting others while trying to heal myself

Do you ever feel like you’re putting on an act? Like you’re pretending—not to fit in, not to be liked, not even because you feel you can’t be yourself—but because you don’t want people to worry anymore?

You don’t want to upset anyone. You don’t want to break their hearts again. So, you smile. You act like you’re okay. Not because you’re being fake, but because you care so deeply about the people around you.

When I did what I did, I hurt so many people. At the time, I couldn’t see it. I’d convinced myself no one would be affected—that somehow, it wouldn’t matter. I think I told myself that because facing the guilt and shame already felt unbearable. But the truth is, I hurt people far more than I could ever admit at the time—more than I ever imagined possible.

I broke so many hearts when I decided that life was too much for me.

Everyone told me it wasn’t my fault. Even Archie, through his own heartbreak, would tell me not to say sorry. But it wasmy fault. At least, that’s how it felt. While I was in hospital, everyone around me was trying to put on brave faces—for me. And I was the one who’d caused it all.

When I came home, I saw it even more clearly. People I love started living in a constant state of fear. They were scared I would hurt myself again. Scared they might miss the signs. Scared they wouldn’t be able to stop me. I couldn’t fully understand it back then. I was still so lost in my own mind that I couldn’t see how much I was continuing to hurt them, just by being unwell.

I remember moments of total despair—sobbing, hysterical, telling my mum and dad that I wanted to die. I didn’t stop to think what that was doing to them. I was fixated on escaping. No one else seemed to matter.

I’d get overwhelmed and walk out of the house, ignoring phone calls, not telling anyone where I was going or if I was okay. I didn’t think about them searching for me, hoping I was safe. I’d get in my car and think about crashing it. Eventually, my parents had to start hiding my keys.

I attempted to overdose two more times after leaving hospital. Again, I didn’t think about who might find me. I didn’t think about anyone else at all. I just wanted to disappear.

But something has shifted.

As I’ve started to get better—not fixed, but better—I’ve started to see what my pain has done to others. I’ve started trying to protect the people I love. I don’t want to hurt them anymore. So I act. I smile. I pretend I’m okay, even when I’m not.

Because I care.

But here’s the truth I’m still learning to say out loud: I’m scared.

I’m scared I’ll get bad again and no one will notice. I’m scared that pretending for the sake of others could be just as dangerous as masking my pain ever was. I’m scared that my silence could isolate me in new ways.

So I write this—not for attention, not for pity—but as a reminder that sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is not to pretend. That sometimes, protecting others starts with being honest about how much you’re still healing.

And maybe, just maybe, we don’t have to carry the act alone.

If this resonates with you…

Please know you’re not alone.

If you’ve ever felt like you’re putting on an act just to protect the people you love… if you’ve ever been afraid to speak your truth because you don’t want to be a burden… if you’re scared that pretending is slowly wearing you down — I see you.

You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.

Reach out. Talk to someone you trust. Message a friend. Speak to your GP. Or contact us at What About Now? — we’re here to listen, not to judge.

You deserve support not just when you’re in crisis, but every step of the way as you try to heal.