🎭 The Invisible Battles We Don’t See

Let's Choose Grace Over Judgement

The News I Did Not Expect

It was like any other weekend. I called my mom, as I always do. But this time, something in her expression was different. My mom looked worried. Then, in a quiet voice, almost hesitantly, she told me that my aunt had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She wasn’t sure what to do or where to seek help.

This news hit me hard, not just for the immediate concern for my aunt’s health, but for the profound isolation she was experiencing. My aunt is in her sixties, single, living alone, and without children. The cancer was caught early, thankfully, but she needed to undergo a mastectomy. Even before she could fully process the cancer diagnosis, she was asked to decide whether to go through a second surgery for reconstruction.

From afar, I stepped in to help in the only way I could. I started sending links, information, and resources about surgery options. We explored what it could mean, what recovery might look like, and what the risks were. I knew she was weighing not just the medical choices, but the financial and emotional ones too.

Story of My Aunt

My aunt has always been independent and proud. She worked her entire career at the same company as a contract salesperson, selling packaged beverages to small grocery stores in Singapore. When I was younger, she would bring me packets of drinks in the newest flavors, her quiet way of showing care. She was married once, but after a difficult journey trying for a baby, her husband left. Despite everything, she stood tall and continued to live her life with dignity.

In the end, my aunt decided not to pursue reconstruction. The cost was more than she could afford, and the idea of more surgery and more pain felt like too much. She just wanted to move forward.

The decision revealed a side of my aunt that I’ve not seen before. It was complex: the vulnerability of getting a life-threatening disease and confronting her own mortality, the grief and shame from losing what society defines as femininity, and the fear of mounting medical bills and possibly losing her contract job. She did not tell anyone at work about her cancer diagnosis, only that she needed 2-weeks off. As a contract worker in her sixties, she could not risk being seen as a liability. She was determined to get through her leave, push herself to recover as quickly as possible, and rush back to work.

The Cultural Weight of Silence

My aunt’s story is not unusual, especially among those of us who grew up in Asian households.

In many Asian families, we are taught to endure. There's an unspoken expectation that we handle our struggles privately. We don't burden others with our problems. We don't display weakness. Illness is something to recover from quickly. We certainly don't ask for help unless we're desperate, and sometimes not even then.

This cultural conditioning runs deep. It's the same force that keeps students from admitting they are struggling academically, employees from using mental health resources, and family members from reaching out when they are drowning. This expectation, while perhaps born from admirable traits like resilience and hard work, can become a crushing burden. It prevents us from seeking the help we desperately need, from leaning on our communities, and from simply being vulnerable.

Even in the face of something as devastating as cancer, the internal voice says, “Don’t let anyone down. Don’t fall behind. Don’t show weakness.”

My aunt never said those words directly, but she didn’t have to. I recognized the narrative. It was one I had learned too.

The Invisible Battles We Don't See

My aunt’s experience made me realize how little we really know about the battles people around us are fighting.

That coworker who seems distracted during meetings might be caring for a sick parent. The friend who does not return texts could be battling depression. The family member who seems distant might be processing a diagnosis they are not ready to share. The manager who seems impatient might be overwhelmed by their own struggles.

Yet, we are so quick to judge. We label people as difficult, distant, or unmotivated without asking what lies beneath. We expect so much from each other. If we send a chat message or email, we expect an immediate response. If we schedule a meeting, we expect that everyone arrives on time. We get frustrated when people don't meet our expectations without considering what invisible burdens they might be carrying.

I think of my aunt, who showed up to work for weeks with a smile, even as her body and spirit were unraveling in private. I wonder how many others are doing the same.

The Grace We All Need

If my aunt's story teaches us anything, it's that the grace we are often most reluctant to give is the grace we most desperately need ourselves. So many of us are one diagnosis, one crisis, one unexpected life event away from needing the understanding we sometimes withhold from others.

What would change if we approached every interaction assuming the other person might be fighting a battle we know nothing about?

What if we made space for people to be human, to struggle, to need time, and to be imperfect?

Photo by Lucas Dalamarta on Unsplash

Giving Grace In Practice

Grace, as I define it, is the quiet power of choosing understanding over judgment.

To give grace means:

Suspending judgment: Before forming an opinion about someone's actions, consider that there might be an underlying reason.

Practicing active listening: When someone opens up, truly listen without immediately offering solutions.

Offering a helping hand: Sometimes, the most powerful act of grace is a simple, practical offer of support, even if it's just a meal, a ride, or just being present.

Normalizing vulnerability: As individuals, when we share our own struggles appropriately and safely, we create space for others to do the same.

Grace can sound like:

“Take all the time you need. We’ll figure it out.”“I hear you. I see you. I get you.”“How can I show up for you right now?”

And grace might look like:

A manager giving space, not pressure.A friend showing up with food, not advice.A team that doesn’t keep score, but keeps the door open.

Grace, ultimately, is about making space for people to be fully human with all the messiness, pain, and healing that may come with it.

Giving Grace To Ourselves

Perhaps even harder than giving grace to others is offering it to ourselves.

We are often our harshest critics. We feel guilty for taking time off. We second-guess whether we’ve done enough. We pressure ourselves to be back to normal before we’re ready.

Sometimes the most radical act of strength is admitting you need grace from others, and especially from yourself.

We’re All Carrying Something

Everyone is carrying something. Even when it doesn’t show.

So today, I hope we can give each other a little more empathy. A little more compassion. A little more grace.

Let’s choose to create a world where no one has to fight their battles alone or in silence.

Let’s actively practice giving grace, recognizing that behind every composed exterior, there might be a story of struggle, hope, and a need for understanding.

Our grace has the power to transform lives. Let’s use it.