Why Do We Hide When Things Go Well?

We talk a lot about the courage it takes to admit when life isn’t going well.

To say the relationship is struggling. The job didn’t work out. We’re lonely. We’re frightened. We don’t know what comes next.

But I’ve been wondering about another kind of vulnerability.

What about the courage it takes to admit that things are going well?

The promotion came through.
The relationship healed.
The business is flourishing.
Something you hoped for actually happened.

A prayer was answered in a miraculous way.

Have you ever noticed yourself sharing good news and immediately qualifying it?

It’s going really well, but…

I’m really pleased, although…

I was incredibly lucky…

We seem to have learnt that vulnerability means revealing our struggles. But perhaps there is vulnerability in allowing ourselves to be seen in our joy too.

 

The vulnerability of good news

I help support the prayer ministry at my church, and it has given me an unusual window into this.

Whatever your own beliefs about prayer, there is something profoundly human about asking another person to hold hope with you.

It takes courage to say: This matters to me. I’m worried. I don’t know what to do. Will you pray for me?

I’ve watched people find the courage to do exactly that.

But I’ve noticed something else.

Sometimes it takes just as much courage to come back afterwards and say:

Something happened.

The situation shifted. A conversation changed. An unexpected provision came. Someone experienced healing or a peace they couldn’t explain.

Within my own faith, I might describe some of those moments as answers to prayer—even miracles.

Yet telling the story can feel strangely exposing.

What if somebody thinks I’m naïve?

What if they call it coincidence?

What if someone else prayed just as fervently and their situation didn’t change?

How do we celebrate what has happened without diminishing the pain of someone for whom it hasn’t?

These are important questions. But perhaps sensitivity to another person’s suffering doesn’t require us to hide our joy.

 

When modesty becomes hiding

This isn’t only about prayer.

Many of us know how to make ourselves smaller when life is difficult.

Don’t let them see how badly this is going.

But I wonder whether we also make ourselves smaller when life is flourishing.

Don’t let them see how well this is going.

Different sentence. Same instinct:

Don’t be too visible.

Perhaps that’s why we instinctively add the but after good news. It brings us back into socially safer territory.

Because being fully seen—even in happiness—can feel risky.

There may be guilt too. How can I celebrate my relationship when my friend is divorcing? Talk about my promotion when someone else has been made redundant? Share an answered prayer when another person’s prayer appears unanswered?

Compassion matters.

But compassion and celebration don’t have to cancel one another out.

We can learn to hold both.

This beautiful thing happened to me.

And:

I know life is painful for you right now.

One person’s joy doesn’t have to invalidate another person’s sorrow.

 

Perhaps vulnerability has another side

Times of change make these patterns particularly visible.

When our circumstances change, we are often renegotiating not only who we are, but how comfortable we are allowing other people to see who we are becoming.

Maybe some of the “rewiring” we need isn’t about becoming relentlessly positive.

It’s about noticing the old internal rules we’ve absorbed:

Don’t boast.

Don’t make anyone uncomfortable.

Don’t celebrate too soon.

Don’t take up too much space.

Don’t let yourself believe something good might actually be happening.

And then becoming curious about whether those rules still serve us.

Of course there will be seasons when we need the courage to say:

I’m not OK.

But perhaps there will also be seasons when courage sounds like:

I’m flourishing.

I’m proud of what I’ve done.

Something beautiful has happened.

I asked for help.

I hoped.

I prayed.

And something changed.

 

We don’t need to turn our lives into highlight reels. Nor do we need to explain every piece of good fortune as evidence that we somehow deserved it.

Perhaps we simply need to become more capable of telling the truth about our lives—both when they hurt and when they surprise us with goodness.

Because courage isn’t only allowing ourselves to be witnessed in the wilderness.

Sometimes it’s allowing ourselves to be witnessed when we reach the clearing too.

 

I invite you to consider these three questions

When something goes well, do you allow yourself to enjoy and share it – or do you immediately minimise it?

What are you afraid might happen if you let other people see you flourishing?

What good thing in your life might deserve to be named, without apology, today?

 

 

I’m Sarah Cretegny, an Accredited Transitions Coach. I help individuals, groups and teams navigate change without losing themselves.

I’m particularly effective when time is limited and the stakes are high. I draw on evidence-based coaching approaches, strengths expertise and my lived experience of leadership, family life and international living.

I’m passionate about partnering with people to coach their wild – because the world needs more radically authentic leaders, now more than ever.

Based in Lausanne, Switzerland, I coach virtually around the world. Is it time for you to discover your wild?

Find my links: https://linktr.ee/discover.your.wild