There’s a specific kind of moment that feels both ridiculous and incredibly real: You’re sitting in your room, maybe holding back tears, maybe not even sure why you’re feeling the way you do. You’re overwhelmed, or maybe just exhausted from holding everything together. And then—ping!—a reminder flashes on your screen: “Zoom call in 5 minutes.”
Great. Just great.
Now you’ve got to pull yourself together, slap on a smile, and pretend you’re okay enough to talk about quarterly goals, or join a class, or pretend you’re excited about some group catch-up. Your heart is heavy, but your camera is about to turn on. You don’t get to pause. You don’t get to say, “Actually, I’m falling apart right now.” You just… show up.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. It’s the strange reality of being human in a digital world that doesn’t always wait for our emotions to catch up.
Let’s talk about that.
The Mask We Wear (Digitally)
We talk a lot about “masks” in emotional conversations—those invisible expressions we put on to hide what we really feel. In the Zoom era, those masks are literal too. The filter, the smile, the perfectly angled camera, the “I’m doing well!” at the beginning of every call.
But behind the screen, many of us are struggling. Some days, it’s full-blown sadness—grief, loss, loneliness. Other days, it’s something harder to define. A kind of emotional fog. Like you’re in your body, but your spirit is somewhere else. And then boom: it’s 2:59 PM, and you’re clicking “Join Meeting.”
Why does this feel so hard?
Because it is hard.
Because pretending to be okay is emotionally expensive. Because putting your pain aside—even for 30 minutes—takes more energy than we admit. Because the dissonance between what we feel and what we have to show is exhausting.
The Pressure to Be “On”
There’s this unspoken pressure, especially in professional or academic spaces, to always be “on.” To be attentive, smiling, ready to contribute. To show up as the best version of ourselves, even when that version feels lightyears away.
And while we’ve all learned to fake it sometimes, there are days when that performance feels like too much. On those days, even logging into Zoom feels like climbing a mountain. Your body might be present, but your heart is somewhere else entirely.
You want to cry, but you’re expected to listen to a presentation. You want to lie down, but you need to take notes. You want someone to see you, but you’re just another face in a digital grid.
So, What Do You Do?
Here’s the thing: There’s no magic fix for this. No simple trick to suddenly feel okay. But there are small things that help—tiny tools to hold on to when the sadness is sitting heavy and the world still expects you to show up.
Let’s talk about a few.
1. Pause and Breathe (Even for 60 Seconds)
It sounds basic. Almost too basic. But when you’re on the edge, even one minute of intentional breathing can create a small shift.
Before your call, close your eyes. Breathe in slowly. Hold it. Breathe out slowly. Repeat a few times.
You don’t need to solve anything in those sixty seconds. You’re just reminding your body that you’re here, that you’re safe, and that you can do this one small thing at a time.
2. Let Yourself Be “Quietly Not Okay”
You don’t always have to be bubbly, especially if that feels fake. If it’s a call where you don’t have to talk much, give yourself permission to just be there. Turn your mic off, nod occasionally, and simply get through it.
You’re not being lazy. You’re surviving. And that counts.
3. Keep a “Call Survival Kit” Nearby
Maybe it’s a warm drink. Maybe it’s a comforting object like a small stone or fidget toy. Maybe it’s a post-it with a kind word scribbled on it: You’re doing your best.
These tiny items can act like anchors, gently grounding you when your emotions feel chaotic.
4. Use the “Camera Off” Option (If You Can)
If your workplace or class allows it, don’t be afraid to turn your camera off. It’s not about hiding. It’s about giving yourself a break from performing. Sometimes, just knowing you don’t have to look okay can help you feel a little less overwhelmed.
5. Tell Someone (If You Feel Safe To)
This isn’t always possible. But if you have a friend, a coworker, or even a manager you trust, consider sending a quick message: “Hey, just a heads-up, I’m having a rough day emotionally. I’ll be a little quieter on the call.”
You don’t need to explain everything. Just a tiny flag to let someone know where you’re at. You’d be surprised how many people understand, and how much relief can come from being honest—just a little.
6. Don’t Judge Your Sadness
Sadness doesn’t always come with a clear reason. Sometimes it’s big and obvious. Sometimes it’s slow and sneaky. Either way, it’s real. And it deserves to be acknowledged.
If you’re sad and have to join a call, that doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human. You’re allowed to feel heavy and still do your job. You’re allowed to care for yourself and still contribute. You’re allowed to not be okay, and still show up.
You’re doing something hard. Please give yourself credit for that.
7. After the Call, Check In With Yourself
Calls end. The laptop closes. And you’re left with yourself again.
When that moment comes, don’t rush past it. Check in. Ask yourself gently: How am I really doing?
Maybe write it down. Maybe cry. Maybe stretch or go outside. Maybe call a friend. Or maybe just sit still and breathe.
Just don’t pretend the sadness disappeared just because you hit “Leave Meeting.”
You deserve attention too. Not just the meeting. You.
What This Teaches Us About Ourselves
There’s something strangely beautiful about these moments—sadness colliding with the necessity of showing up. It reveals a quiet resilience in us. A kind of bravery that doesn’t get celebrated enough.
Because it is brave to show up when you’re heartbroken.
It is strong to speak when your voice is shaky.
It is meaningful to stay connected even when you feel far away.
You are not weak for struggling. You are strong for continuing to move, to speak, to care, even with a heavy heart.
The Bigger Picture: Why We Should Talk About This More
Too often, we separate our “real” selves from our “Zoom” selves. The messy self stays off-camera. The emotional self gets muted. And we wonder why we feel disconnected—even in meetings full of faces.
But what if we were a little more honest? What if workplaces, classrooms, and teams created space for emotional check-ins—real ones?
What if “How are you?” wasn’t just a formality, but an invitation?
What if we normalized showing up as we are, not just as who we think we should be?
The more we talk about it, the less alone we feel. And the more we admit our struggles, the more we realize that everyone else is carrying something too.
Ayerhs Magazine 