You can’t fix a leaky faucet by pretending the kitchen floor is just naturally damp. And you can’t heal what you won’t name. That’s where most of us get stuck. We feel the anxiety, the frustration, the pit in our stomach that shows up at 2 AM, but we wave it off. “Oh, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.”

Sure. And I’m an Olympic figure skater. In heels.

The truth is, naming what’s going on is terrifying because it makes it real. Saying, “I’m scared about this new marriage,” or “I feel lost after this divorce,” or “Starting my business has me completely overwhelmed,” feels like putting a neon sign over our head that flashes: I DON’T HAVE IT ALL TOGETHER.

But guess what? You don’t have it all together. None of us do. And the sooner you admit it, the sooner you can actually do something about it. Pretending everything is fine is like duct taping your check engine light and hoping for the best. Spoiler alert: that engine is still going to blow. Probably on the highway. Probably when you’re already late.

Life changes—whether you’re standing at the altar, staring at a positive pregnancy test, sitting across from a divorce attorney, or trying to figure out if LLC or S-corp makes you sound more impressive—will stir up every single unhealed, unnamed thing inside you. And money? Oh, money loves to poke those tender spots.

If you grew up thinking money was tight, or you watched your parents fight about it, or you felt like you never quite got it right yourself, guess what happens when you’re about to combine finances with a spouse, or figure out maternity leave, or split assets, or launch your dream business? All that old junk comes flying out like confetti from a busted balloon. And if you don’t name it, you’ll just keep reacting to it. You’ll pick fights over Target runs or blow up your budget because “you deserve it,” when really, you’re just trying to quiet that panicked little voice inside that you’re too scared to acknowledge.

When you name it—”I’m terrified I’ll mess up our finances like my parents did”—you take its power away. You can work with something you name. You can build a plan around it. You can create habits that make space for both your fear and your goals. You can even call in help—a coach, a therapist, a very honest best friend who doesn’t let you get away with your usual nonsense.

But you can’t fix what you’re pretending isn’t there.

So go ahead. Say it out loud. Whisper it if you have to. Write it down where no one sees it. Name the thing. The fear, the hurt, the story you keep dragging around. Because once you name it, you can finally start healing it. And believe me, that feels way better than pretending your kitchen floor is just… naturally damp.