You know that specific kind of exhaustion that sleep just doesn’t fix? It’s not in your muscles; it’s in the quiet space between what you say and what you feel.

Let’s be real about this. We spend so much of our lives curating a version of ourselves that is easy for other people to handle. We smooth out the rough edges, swallow the sharp words, and nod along when we are screaming inside. I used to think that was just being polite. I thought it was being a good friend, a good employee, a good woman. But if you have been tracking your energy levels lately, or maybe even tracking your hot flashes, you might have noticed something strange. The fatigue isn’t always physical. Sometimes, the body keeps score long after the conversation has ended. I remember sitting in my old corporate office, wearing a blazer that felt like armor, smiling at a colleague who was dumping their stress onto my desk. I said yes. I said I could handle it. I said everything was fine. And then I went home and collapsed on the floor because my nervous system had simply shut down. That was the first time I realized that masking isn’t free. It costs more than money. It costs your vitality.

Here is what happens when you hold back your truth. Your body enters a state of low-grade alertness. It is like holding a beach ball underwater. You can do it for a while, but your arms start to shake. Your shoulders creep up toward your ears. Your jaw clenches so hard you get headaches. When you suppress an emotion—whether it’s anger, grief, or even excitement that feels too big—you are essentially telling your brain that there is a threat. And your brain believes you. So it releases cortisol. It pumps stress hormones into your bloodstream. This is great if you are running from a bear. It is terrible if you are sitting in a Zoom meeting pretending you are happy about the new project deadline. For women going through perimenopause and menopause, this is especially dangerous. Our hormones are already fluctuating. Adding emotional suppression on top of that is like pouring gasoline on a fire that is already smoldering. Your body doesn’t just store the feeling; it stores the tension. And that tension becomes exhaustion. It becomes brain fog. It becomes the reason you feel like you are wading through molasses by 3 PM.

We wear masks for many reasons. Maybe we don’t want to burden others. Maybe we are afraid of conflict. Maybe we were taught that our feelings are inconvenient or messy. But here is the truth: every mask you wear requires energy to maintain. Think about how much mental RAM you use trying to keep track of what everyone else expects from you. How much energy do you spend monitoring your tone of voice? How much effort goes into smiling when you want to cry? It adds up. And it drains you. I see this constantly in my coaching practice. Women who are exhausted not because they aren’t sleeping enough, but because they are living a lie. They are performing wellness. They are performing happiness. They are performing strength. But underneath, they are hollowed out. Your body isn’t broken; it’s evolving. It is asking you to put the mask down. It is asking you to let the real, messy, imperfect human show up. Because the cost of hiding is higher than the cost of being seen.

One of the hardest emotions to mask is anger. Society tells us that angry women are difficult. That we are hormonal. That we are irrational. So we swallow it. We turn it inward. We blame ourselves for having boundaries. But anger is often a signal. It is your body’s way of saying, 'This does not fit.' It is a protective mechanism. When you mask anger, you don’t make it disappear. You turn it into resentment. And resentment is heavy. It sits in your gut. It makes you tired. I had to learn to sit with my anger. To acknowledge it. To say, 'I am angry right now, and that is okay.' Once I did that, the exhaustion lifted slightly. Not because the problem was solved, but because I stopped fighting myself. Breathe through the heat. Breathe through the discomfort. Let the feeling move through you instead of getting stuck in you. Anger can be fuel. It can tell you where your limits are. It can help you set boundaries. But only if you let it speak.

You don’t have to drop a bombshell confession to stop masking. Start small. Tell one person one true thing today. Tell your partner, 'I’m actually really overwhelmed right now.' Tell your friend, 'I didn’t mean to snap at you; I’m just tired.' Tell your boss, 'I need more time to do this well.' These small acts of honesty create cracks in the dam. And water starts to flow. You will feel lighter. You might feel scared. You might worry about the reaction. But notice the shift in your body. Notice the release in your chest. The exhaustion begins to lift when you stop carrying the weight of a false self. Community over competition among women means we support each other in being real. Not perfect. Real. When we share our struggles, we realize we are not alone. We realize that our feelings are valid. And that validation is healing. It is medicine. It is better than any supplement.

So, how do we reclaim that energy? First, awareness. Notice when you are masking. Catch yourself before you say 'fine' when you mean 'no.' Second, permission. Give yourself permission to feel what you feel. No judgment. Third, expression. Find safe ways to express those feelings. Write them down. Scream into a pillow. Talk to a trusted friend. Move your body. Do not let the feelings stagnate. Flow is health. Stagnation is sickness. Your body knows what it needs. Trust it. Listen to it. Honor it. You are not here to please everyone. You are here to live fully. And living fully requires authenticity. It requires courage. But the reward is a life that feels light. A life that feels yours. A life where you have energy left over for joy. For play. For rest that actually restores. You deserve that. You deserve to wake up without the weight of the mask pressing down on your face. You deserve to breathe freely. So take a deep breath. Drop the mask. Just for a moment. See how it feels. It might feel scary. It might feel freeing. But it will definitely feel like you.

Thank you for letting me into your day. Remember, you are doing better than you think. Be gentle with yourself. This episode is general information, not medical advice — please talk with your own doctor about your health. I’ll see you next time. Keep breathing. Keep being real. Love you.