Content Note: This one has teeth.
Do you notice how fast the mask snaps on?
Something hits—betrayal, loss, another system breakdown—and before you register the damage, you’re saying it: “I’m fine.”
Fine: the lie that buys time. The mask that keeps you moving while your insides unravel.
It’s automatic now, isn’t it? The phrase we use when we can’t afford to stop, when the truth would take too long to explain, or when we already know no one has the capacity to hold it. Fine has become a self-defense mechanism in a culture that punishes vulnerability.
Workers are burning out at record rates. Trust in government and media has cratered. And yet—when asked how we’re doing—we smile and say it again. I’m fine.
We learned this reflex from systems that trained us to suppress our pain in service of productivity, profit, or politeness. In the workplace it’s called “professionalism.” In healthcare it’s “compliance.” In daily life it’s “resilience.” But what it really is, is silence—sanitized, packaged, and sold back to us as strength.
Betrayal on Repeat
Some people circle you like vultures, waiting for the stumble. It doesn’t even matter what the details are anymore—it’s the punch in the gut that lands every time: trust broken, another reminder that empathy is seen as bait, not strength.
I keep playing both sides in my own head: giving the benefit of the doubt while flinching inside, waiting for the knife. That’s betrayal trauma: your body keeps score even when your mouth says ‘fine.’
And when the cut comes, it pulls me into the archive. I’m back rifling through the old betrayals, comparing scars, convincing myself I’m still safe. The cycle leaves me ragged. Sleepless. Distracted.
At the same time, I know the person responsible is in his own state of desperation. Yes, I can have empathy for someone who wronged me because I know the system is rigged against all of us to turn on each other. Ironic, isn’t it?
Personal betrayal isn’t the only one we face, though. The same dynamic plays out on a national scale—systems waiting for the stumble, then diving for profit.
The Betrayal Loop
Some betrayals arrive quietly: a denied claim, a layoff email, a provider “forgets” to file paperwork. Others are so large they fill the room: entire agencies defunded, communities priced out, departments wiped out.
People dying while waiting for care that never comes.
My estranged aunt bounced from hospital to hospital for months. What should have been a simple ask was anything but—no answers, just appointments pushed further out, endless referrals, and “try-me” treatments. She didn’t live long enough to reach the one appointment that could’ve given clarity and a treatment plan. By then, cancer had already devoured everything. My mom is gutted.
I’ve worked in medicine. I know early detection saves lives. Watching her slip through the cracks was brutal. Patients don’t need patience; they need care delivered when it’s needed. Instead, they get waiting rooms, hold music, and approvals that come too late.
This is systemic rot in healthcare, and it’s not new. Meanwhile, I’ve been wrestling my own bureaucratic nightmare—referrals lost, calls dropped, test results delayed. That’s the heart of it: time—wasted, stolen, and running out.
And this isn’t just my family’s story. It’s national. The American College of Surgeons has declared the U.S. healthcare system “in crisis.” Staff shortages, clogged systems, rising costs—patients stranded. Politico reports the RFK Jr. administration is trying to rip apart HHS and rebuild it, but what we really see is the tearing-apart part. The rebuilding hasn’t happened. And patients don’t live in policy drafts; they live in waiting rooms. They die in gaps.
Systemic Rot with a Human Cost
National health spending is nearing five trillion dollars a year, yet nearly half of U.S. adults report skipping care because of cost. Administrative overhead swallows a quarter of every dollar before a single syringe touches skin.
Corporate profits balloon while empathy shrinks. Healthcare workers are leaving in waves. Patients are dying in waiting rooms.
We’re not witnessing isolated dysfunction; we’re witnessing a culture where betrayal has become policy.
When care becomes a commodity, empathy becomes a liability. We start to internalize systemic neglect as personal failure. We apologize for needing help. We call it being “responsible.”
Greed over compassion. Profit over care. Betrayal in every direction.
The Human Cost
Every betrayal—systemic or personal—erodes trust, and trust is the cornerstone of community. As institutions fracture, we begin to mirror their dysfunction: transactional relationships, guarded interactions, empathy rationed like oxygen.
Health-care debt burdens over 40 percent of adults. Workers describe being emotionally offline. People isolate not because they want to, but because they no longer trust connection to be safe.
I’ve felt that withdrawal myself—pulling back from people I love, convincing myself it’s just fatigue when it’s really disillusionment. When a nation stops feeling, its humanity starts to decay.
The Truth
We keep saying it. We keep meaning it less.
I’m fine.
But what we’re really saying is:
F.I.N.E.—Feelings I’m Not Expressing.
That’s the ground truth: a society choking on swallowed emotion and fueled by unprocessed grief. Systems teach us to hide our pain so the machine keeps running. The reckoning begins when we stop cooperating with that lie.
The Beginning, Not the End
We’re not powerless in this. The mask may be habit—but habits can be broken.
Every time we name what hurts, every time we refuse to play along with silence, we loosen the grip these systems have on us.
It doesn’t happen overnight, but it starts here — in conversations, in moments of honesty, in the choice to care even when it feels safer not to.
We’re not fine. But we’re not finished, either.
If this hit something true for you—good. Let it.
Now do something with it. Share it. Talk about it. Ask someone how they really are and mean it.
Read the companion poem “Duped” in Witness Statements.
And if you want to go further, read the full issue:
→ Issue #2: Feeling F.I.N.E. — The Mask That Costs Us
That’s where we take this reckoning beyond words—into policy, action, and the human work of rebuilding trust from the inside out. Includes voice reading of Duped.
Come sit with me there. Thanks for reading. —Liora
Read, Reflect, Reconnect
1. American Psychological Association — The Hidden Costs of Suppressing Emotions
Evidence-based overview of what happens when we bottle everything up and call it strength.
2. National Institutes of Health — America’s Broken Health Care System: Can Doctors Lead the Fix?
A concise, credible analysis of how profit incentives and administrative waste undermine patient outcomes—and what change might look like from inside.
3. Dr. Nicole LePera — “Why We Hide Our True Feelings”
Clear, compassionate exploration of the social conditioning behind “I’m fine” culture, written for everyday readers.
4. Pew Research Center — Most Americans Say the U.S. Health Care System Fails Them
Data snapshot on public perception of care access, cost, and trust in institutions.
Truth doesn’t live in isolation. Share what resonates—truth spreads faster when it’s spoken out loud.
Thanks for reading this piece from The Reckoning Lens. If it struck something in you and you’d like to dig deeper:
– Buy me a coffee — a small boost for the human behind the words.
– Feed the kitties — cover a day’s meals for the colony I care for; you’ll get Whiskers in the Dark, a mini-zine, as thanks.
– Grab my chapbook — Through the Fire, Vol. I — the poetry that started it all, now on Amazon.
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Thanks @Beth Cruz for the restack! Truly appreciate your kindness 💜
How deep and true!