How I Unlearned Hiding My Pain to Seem ‘Low Maintenance’

Letting go of the “I’m fine” reflex with the people I love

If there’s one thing I wish I’d learned sooner, it’s this:
You don’t have to hide your pain to be loved.
You don’t have to shrink yourself to be included.
You don’t have to be “easy” to be enough.

But if I’m honest, in my late teens and early twenties, that felt impossible.

Back then, I was still figuring out my body, my friendships, my identity- and trying desperately not to let endometriosis take over my life. I wanted to be the friend who said yes to every invite. The one who was always up for a spontaneous catch up or a last-minute trip. The one who could bounce back quickly, no matter what her body was going through.

Instead, I was constantly navigating a body I didn’t fully understand, symptoms I didn’t yet have language for, and a health system that often made me feel invisible. So, I learnt to perform- to act ‘normal’. And I convinced myself that if I could just keep everything under wraps, it would all be easier- for me and for everyone around me.

There’s a specific kind of pressure that shows up when you’re young and unwell- especially with a condition as misunderstood and invisible as endo.

You’re meant to be in your prime, carefree, energetic. Instead, you’re bloated at brunch, exhausted by 10am, or stuck at home while your friends are at festivals or uni parties.

So, you start to fake it. You go out when your body is screaming for rest. You eat the food that will make you sick just to not make it a thing. You slap on a smile even when the pain makes you want to cry.

I spent years convincing people I was “fine” because I didn’t want to feel like the one who always had something going on. I didn’t want to be pitied. Or worse- excluded.

But the thing about pretending you’re fine is that it can be incredibly isolating. People take you at face value. They stop checking in. They assume you’re good- because you’ve trained them to. And then when you do reach out or need help, it can feel like you’re suddenly asking for too much. Not because you are- but because you’ve set the bar so low for what “coping” looks like that anything above that feels like an inconvenience.

Sometimes I feel like people forget: we don’t want our plans ruined by endo, or to have to cancel catch-ups or change what we eat and drink just to avoid symptoms. It’s important for others to understand that we too get annoyed and frustrated by the condition. But this is the unfortunate reality of endo- and why education and understanding matter so much.

I wish I could go back and tell younger me:

• You are allowed to take up space.

• You don’t need to be the easy friend.

• You are not a burden for having needs.

Unlearning that deeply ingrained “low-maintenance” mindset has been slow and ongoing. Even now, I sometimes catch myself slipping back into it- putting on the brave face, saying “yes” when I mean “no,” downplaying how much I’m struggling. But I’ve gotten better at recognising it. Better at speaking up. Better at letting people in. Now, when I cancel plans, I try not to apologise for honouring my body. When I need support, I ask- even if it feels a little awkward. When I feel overwhelmed, I name it.

And I’ve found that the people who truly care want to show up for me. I just have to give them the chance.

If you’re someone feeling the pressure to be fine all the time- to be the one who holds it all together, who doesn’t rock the boat- I see you. I’ve been there. And I wish someone had told me that I didn’t have to be that version of myself to be loved. The people who are meant to be in your life won’t walk away because you need rest. Or boundaries. Or honesty. They’ll lean in. They’ll ask questions. They’ll keep inviting you- even if you say no sometimes.

It took me a long time to believe that I could show up exactly as I was- tired, sore, unsure- and still be worthy of care. I’m still learning. Still softening. Still practising not performing wellness for the comfort of others. But I promise you: there is so much freedom on the other side of letting yourself be real.

I wish I’d learnt this sooner. But I’m learning it now- and maybe you are too.

So, if today feels heavy, that’s okay. You don’t have to perform or push through. You’re allowed to take the pressure off- to move gently, to listen to your body, to choose rest. That isn’t weakness. That is strength. Just as you are, you deserve to be met with care.

You are more than enough- even on your tricky days.

Anna x