A colleague mentioned something casually in a meeting last week. Nothing dramatic, just an observation about a pattern they’d noticed in how our team operates. And the moment they said it, my stomach dropped.
Not because the observation was surprising. But because I’d been noticing the exact same thing for months. I’d just been pretending not to notice it.
The second they named it out loud, I had to make a choice: keep pretending I didn’t see it, or acknowledge what I’d been actively avoiding acknowledging. And in that moment, I realized how much energy I’d been spending on the pretending.
You’re noticing more than you’re admitting. The friend who’s taking advantage of you. The relationship that’s dying. The pattern that keeps repeating. You see it. You’re just pretending you don’t, and the pretending is exhausting.
We do this constantly. We notice things we don’t want to be true, so we actively un-notice them. We see patterns we’d rather not acknowledge, so we convince ourselves we’re not seeing what we’re clearly seeing. We accumulate evidence that something isn’t working, then meticulously ignore the evidence we’ve collected.
It’s not that we’re oblivious or unobservant. We’re noticing everything. We’re just pretending we’re not noticing it because acknowledging it would require doing something about it, or facing a truth we’re not ready to face.
That’s when I understood: The work of pretending not to see what you’re seeing is often harder than the work of actually dealing with what you see. But we do it anyway, because dealing with it feels scarier than pretending.
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The Things You’re Noticing But Not Acknowledging
There’s a friend in my life who only reaches out when they need something. Not in an obvious, dramatic way. Just… every time my phone rings with their name, it’s because they need advice, or a favor, or someone to vent to. We haven’t had a conversation in years where they just wanted to connect.
I’ve been noticing this for probably two years. Every single time they call, there’s a little moment where I think “here we go, what do they need this time?” And then I answer anyway, help with whatever they need, and pretend I haven’t noticed the pattern.
If you asked me directly, I would have said our friendship is fine. I would have defended them. I would have found excuses for why the pattern isn’t actually a pattern—they’re just going through a hard time, they’re busy, I’m reading too much into it.
But if you asked me to describe the last five interactions we had? Every single one would be them asking for something. I’m noticing. I’m just not letting myself acknowledge what I’m noticing.
And I’m not alone in this. Everyone has things they’re noticing but not acknowledging. The relationship that’s slowly failing even though you’re still in it. The career path that’s clearly wrong for you even though you keep following it. The family dynamic that’s toxic even though you keep participating in it.
You’re seeing all of it. You’re just pretending you’re not seeing it. Because seeing it would mean having to do something about it, and not-seeing feels easier.
Why We Pretend Not to See
The reason we pretend not to notice things we’re clearly noticing is because acknowledging them creates obligation.
If I acknowledge that my friend only calls when they need something, I have to either address it with them or accept that the friendship is one-sided. Either option is uncomfortable. So I pretend not to notice, which lets me avoid both options.
If you acknowledge that your relationship is dying, you have to either invest serious work into fixing it or consider ending it. Both are scary. So you pretend not to notice the distance, the lack of connection, the way you’ve become roommates instead of partners.
If you acknowledge that your career path isn’t right for you, you have to either recommit to making it work or consider changing direction. Both feel risky. So you pretend not to notice your lack of enthusiasm, your dread of Mondays, your envy of people doing different work.
The not-noticing protects you from having to act. As long as you’re successfully pretending you don’t see the problem, you don’t have to deal with the problem. You can keep going as if everything is fine.
But here’s what’s insidious about this: the not-noticing requires constant effort. You’re not actually blind to what’s happening—you’re actively maintaining blindness. And that takes work.
Every time I talk to that friend, I have to actively not-notice that they only call when they need something. I have to find reasons why this time is different, why the pattern isn’t a pattern, why I’m being unfair by keeping track. The mental gymnastics are exhausting.
I’m not saving energy by not acknowledging what I see. I’m spending enormous energy maintaining the pretense that I’m not seeing it.
The Work of Un-Noticing
What I’ve come to understand is that un-noticing is actually harder work than noticing. When you notice something directly, you deal with it and move on. When you notice something but pretend not to notice it, you have to constantly maintain the pretense.
I had a job a few years ago where I kept noticing that I was being excluded from certain meetings and decisions. Not in an obvious way—just this pattern where things would happen and I’d find out about them later. Important conversations I wasn’t included in. Decisions made without my input even though they affected my work.
I noticed this. Clearly. Every time it happened, I felt it. But I kept telling myself I was being paranoid, reading too much into it, making something out of nothing. I actively un-noticed what I was noticing.
And the work of un-noticing was constant. Every time it happened again, I had to re-convince myself it wasn’t a pattern. Find new explanations for why this instance was different. Create reasons why I shouldn’t trust what I was clearly observing.
It took way more energy than if I’d just acknowledged it. If I’d said to myself “yes, I’m being excluded from things, that’s happening,” I could have dealt with it—talked to my boss, looked for a different job, whatever. But the pretending took constant effort with no resolution.
The pattern continued because I wasn’t addressing it. And I wasn’t addressing it because I wouldn’t acknowledge I was seeing it. So I just kept spending energy on the pretending, month after month, exhausting myself while the situation got worse.
What You’re Protecting By Staying Blind
When I dig into why I’m pretending not to notice something, it’s usually because I’m protecting something. A self-image, a relationship, a hope, a belief about how things are or should be.
With my one-sided friendship, I was protecting the belief that I have mutual friendships, that people value me for more than what I can do for them. Acknowledging that this particular friendship is one-sided would threaten that belief. So I pretend not to notice, which lets me maintain the belief even though the evidence contradicts it.
I’ve watched people pretend not to notice their partner’s drinking problem because acknowledging it would threaten their image of their relationship being fine. Pretend not to notice their own declining performance at work because acknowledging it would threaten their professional identity. Pretend not to notice their adult child’s continued dependence because acknowledging it would threaten their belief that they’ve raised an independent person.
We’re protecting something by staying blind. And often, what we’re protecting isn’t even helping us—it’s just comfortable or familiar or easier than facing the truth.
The self-image I was protecting by not noticing the one-sided friendship wasn’t accurate. I do have mutual friendships—just not this one. But protecting the inaccurate image felt easier than acknowledging this particular friendship wasn’t what I wanted it to be.
The problem is that you can’t actually protect these things by staying blind. The truth doesn’t go away just because you’re not acknowledging it. Your relationship doesn’t become healthy because you’re not noticing the problems. Your career doesn’t become fulfilling because you’re not acknowledging your dissatisfaction.
You’re just protecting yourself from having to deal with reality. And reality keeps happening anyway while you expend energy pretending it’s not.
The Moment Someone Else Names It
One of the most uncomfortable moments is when someone else names the thing you’ve been noticing but not acknowledging. They point out the pattern you’ve been pretending not to see. And suddenly you have to choose: keep pretending or admit you’ve been seeing it all along.
When my colleague named that pattern in our team meeting, everyone else nodded. It was obvious to all of them. And there I was, having spent months telling myself I wasn’t seeing it, confronted with the fact that not only was it real, everyone else had noticed it too.
I had two options: I could act surprised, pretend I’d never noticed, continue maintaining the blindness. Or I could admit—to them and to myself—that yeah, I’d been seeing it, I just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it.
I chose the latter. And the relief was immediate. I didn’t have to maintain the pretense anymore. I could stop spending energy on the un-noticing and start spending it on actually dealing with what I’d been avoiding.
But I’ve also watched people choose the first option. Someone points out the obvious pattern, and they act completely shocked, like they’ve never noticed any such thing. And you can see the work it takes to maintain that shock, to keep pretending even when someone else has named exactly what they’ve been seeing.
It reminds me of the emperor’s new clothes. Everyone knows. Everyone can see. But as long as no one says it out loud, we can all pretend we’re not seeing what we’re clearly seeing. And then someone says it, and you have to decide whether to keep up the pretense or acknowledge the obvious.
Patterns You Keep “Not Seeing”
The most expensive form of not-noticing is when you’ve seen the same pattern repeat multiple times and you keep pretending each instance is isolated, unrelated, not part of a pattern.
I have a pattern where I take on too much, overcommit, then burn out. I’ve done this at least five times that I can clearly remember. Each time, I notice I’m overcommitted. And each time, I tell myself “this time is different” or “I can handle it” or “it’s just this one thing.”
I’m noticing the pattern. I can describe it to you in detail. But I’m actively not acknowledging that it’s a pattern, which means I keep repeating it. If I acknowledged it as a pattern, I’d have to change my behavior. So I treat each instance as a one-off, unrelated to the previous times I did the exact same thing.
This is probably the most common form of not-noticing. You see the pattern—the relationship dynamic that keeps repeating, the work situation that keeps arising, the friend who keeps disappointing you in the same way—and you tell yourself each time that this time is isolated, that you’re not seeing a pattern even though you clearly are.
Because acknowledging the pattern would require acknowledging that something needs to fundamentally change. That you need to set different boundaries, make different choices, address something systemic rather than treating each instance as a separate problem.
And that feels too big, too hard, too overwhelming. So you keep not-noticing the pattern, dealing with each instance individually, wondering why the same thing keeps happening to you.
The Exhaustion of Pretending
What I’ve learned is that pretending not to see what you’re seeing is profoundly exhausting. More exhausting, actually, than dealing with what you see.
When I finally acknowledged the one-sided friendship, I had a conversation with my friend about it. It was uncomfortable. They were defensive. It didn’t immediately fix everything. But afterwards, I wasn’t exhausted anymore.
The exhaustion wasn’t from the friendship being one-sided. The exhaustion was from pretending I wasn’t noticing that it was one-sided. From the mental gymnastics of finding excuses every time they called needing something. From the work of maintaining a belief that contradicted what I was clearly observing.
Once I acknowledged what I’d been seeing, I didn’t have to do that work anymore. The situation wasn’t immediately solved, but the energy drain of the pretending stopped.
This is what I’ve noticed about acknowledging hard truths: the acknowledgment itself is difficult, but it’s a one-time difficulty. The pretending is a continuous difficulty that never stops until you acknowledge what you’re avoiding.
You can exhaust yourself maintaining blindness, or you can face the difficulty of seeing clearly once and be done with it. One is a chronic drain. The other is an acute discomfort that passes.
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Conversations With Yourself About What You Already Know
Some of the things we’re pretending not to notice aren’t about other people—they’re about ourselves. Things we know about our own patterns, choices, behaviors that we’re actively avoiding acknowledging.
I’ve spent years knowing that I work best in the late morning and afternoon, that I’m not productive in early mornings, that trying to force morning productivity just makes me frustrated. I know this. I have years of evidence.
And yet, I keep setting early morning alarms, planning to be productive first thing, then feeling like a failure when it doesn’t work. I’m noticing the pattern clearly. I’m just not acknowledging what it means—that I should stop trying to force morning productivity and instead work with my actual rhythms.
The conversation I need to have with myself is: “You know you’re not a morning person. You’ve known this for years. Stop pretending you don’t know this and just plan your days around when you actually work well.”
But having that conversation means admitting I’ve been fighting against something I already know about myself. Means accepting that the idealized version of me who’s productive at 6am isn’t who I actually am. Means working with reality instead of with the version of reality I wish were true.
So I keep not-noticing what I clearly notice about myself. Keep trying to become someone I’m not while pretending I don’t already know that’s what I’m doing.
These internal conversations—with ourselves about what we already know about ourselves—might be the hardest ones to have. Because you can’t avoid yourself. You’re carrying yourself everywhere. And when you’re actively not-noticing something about yourself, that internal work is constant.
What Changes When You Stop Pretending
I’ve been experimenting with this—stopping the pretending, acknowledging what I’m noticing even when it’s uncomfortable. And what changes is immediate and profound.
First, the mental energy frees up. I’m not spending effort maintaining blindness anymore. The constant work of un-noticing stops, and that energy becomes available for other things.
Second, I can actually address what I’m seeing. As long as I’m pretending not to notice something, I can’t deal with it. Once I acknowledge it, I can decide what to do about it. Even if I decide to do nothing, that’s a conscious choice rather than passive avoidance.
Third, I stop feeling crazy. When you’re noticing something but pretending not to notice it, there’s this subtle gaslighting you’re doing to yourself. “I’m not seeing what I’m clearly seeing.” It creates cognitive dissonance that’s unsettling in ways you might not consciously recognize.
When you stop pretending and acknowledge what you see, that dissonance resolves. You’re no longer fighting with your own perception. You’re seeing what you see and admitting you’re seeing it.
And fourth, things can actually change. As long as you’re pretending not to notice patterns, they’ll keep repeating. Once you acknowledge them, you can interrupt them. The acknowledgment itself doesn’t solve everything, but it’s the necessary first step toward anything changing.
Permission to See What You’re Seeing
Here’s what I want you to know: You’re allowed to notice what you’re noticing. You’re allowed to acknowledge patterns you’ve been pretending not to see. You’re allowed to trust your perception even when acknowledging it is uncomfortable.
You’re allowed to notice that friendship is one-sided and admit that to yourself. You’re allowed to see that your relationship is struggling and stop pretending it’s fine. You’re allowed to acknowledge that your career path isn’t working and stop forcing yourself to be enthusiastic about it.
You’re allowed to see patterns in your own behavior and admit them instead of treating each instance as isolated. You’re allowed to notice things about yourself that don’t match who you wish you were and stop fighting against who you actually are.
The exhaustion you’re feeling isn’t from the problems themselves—it’s from the work of pretending you don’t see the problems. The mental gymnastics of maintaining blindness takes enormous energy that could be used for actually dealing with what you’re avoiding.
And here’s the thing: acknowledging what you see doesn’t obligate you to immediately fix everything. You can notice something is wrong without having to solve it right now. You can acknowledge a pattern without having to change it today. You can see clearly and then decide what, if anything, you want to do about what you’re seeing.
But you can’t do any of that while you’re still pretending not to see. The pretending prevents both clarity and action. The acknowledgment at least gives you the option of doing something, even if you choose not to right now.
The Truth You’ve Been Avoiding
You know what you’ve been pretending not to notice. Just like you knew what conversation you were avoiding, what decision you weren’t making, what version of yourself you were trying to become.
You’ve been seeing it. Maybe for months, maybe for years. You’ve been accumulating evidence, noticing patterns, observing things that don’t quite add up. You’re not blind—you’re actively maintaining blindness. And it’s costing you.
So stop pretending. Stop the mental gymnastics of finding excuses for patterns you clearly see. Stop gaslighting yourself about what you’re observing. Stop spending energy on un-noticing what you’re noticing.
Just see it. Acknowledge it. Admit—to yourself at least—that you’ve been seeing it all along, you were just pretending you weren’t.
The relief of stopping the pretense will be immediate. The mental space that frees up will be enormous. And the clarity that comes from actually seeing what you’re seeing, without the filter of active avoidance, will let you figure out what, if anything, you want to do about it.
You don’t have to fix everything you’re noticing. You don’t have to immediately solve every pattern you’ve been avoiding acknowledging. But you do need to stop pretending you’re not seeing what you’re clearly seeing.
Because the work of pretending is harder than the work of dealing with truth. The exhaustion of maintaining blindness is greater than the discomfort of seeing clearly. And you can’t change what you won’t acknowledge exists.
So see it. Notice it. Acknowledge it. Trust your perception. And stop spending energy on the exhausting work of pretending you don’t see what you see.
The things you’re pretending not to notice? You’re noticing them. You’ve been noticing them all along. It’s time to stop pretending you’re not.
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