The language of high-functioning distress at work.

February 1, 2026

By Georgia Gay & Danielle Doughty Counsellors and Co-Founders of The Steady Ground Co.

There are phrases that flow easily throughout workplaces; “I’m fine” is one of them. It tends to pass without question, offered and accepted as a complete answer. It’s often expected as the automatic response to “hey, how are you?” and no wonder, as it allows conversations to continue, work to move forward, and discomfort to remain contained.

Within the context of Mental Health Awareness Week, which landed just a week ago, there is often encouragement to speak more openly. What is less often overlooked is how frequently people are already communicating distress, just not in ways that are easily recognised.

High-functioning distress tends to hide behind the attributes we love to see; when the outputs show high productivity and reliability, we may not ever feel inclined to question what else might be going on for someone until the inevitable drop off in performance.

Speaking another language?

In many workplaces, distress is expressed indirectly, instead, it comes through small shifts in language which are often subtle enough to be missed.

“I’m just a bit tired at the moment.” “It’s been a busy few weeks.” “I’ll get through it.”

These phrases can appear ordinary, even expected. They are often delivered with a level of composure that makes them easy to move past, yet they can also be carrying something more. Fatigue that is not resolving, pressure that feels constant, or a sense of being stretched beyond what feels manageable.

This way of communicating is not accidental, for many people it reflects an internal calculation. What feels safe to say, what might be perceived as weakness, and how much can be shared without consequence. The result is a form of communication that reveals just enough to be true, while still protecting the person saying it.

Why it goes unnoticed.

Workplaces are not always well set up to hear this kind of language. There is often a reliance on clarity, on people being able to articulate what they need in direct terms, and when that doesn’t happen, it can be assumed that everything is manageable.

There is also the influence of performance. When someone continues to deliver, meet deadlines, and engage with their role, it can reinforce the perception that they are coping. Output becomes a proxy for wellbeing, even when the two are no longer aligned.

This is where high-functioning distress can become particularly difficult to recognise. It exists alongside capability, not in opposition to it. In some cases, the ability to continue performing is precisely what allows distress to remain unseen.

The cost.

When distress is not recognised, it tends to build over time. At an individual level, this can lead to increased anxiety or emotional exhaustion, and a gradual erosion of confidence. What begins as something manageable can become something more pervasive, particularly when it is held in isolation.

At an organisational level, the impact is often less visible but equally significant. Decision making can become more reactive, communication more strained, and engagement more fragile. Over time, this can contribute to absence, turnover, and a loss of continuity within teams.

Data from organisations such as Mind continues to highlight the scale of mental health challenges within the workplace. Yet statistics alone do not capture the quieter experiences that sit beneath them. The people who are still present, still working, and still saying they are fine.

What it means to really listen.

Responding to high-functioning distress does not require people to become experts in mental health. It does, however, require a shift in how listening happens.

Hearing what is being said beneath the surface often begins with slowing down. Not taking language at face value, but allowing space for it to be explored. A simple response such as “you’ve mentioned things have been busy for a while, how are you actually feeling?” can open a different kind of conversation.

It also involves tolerating a degree of uncertainty, as not every expression of fatigue or pressure will lead to a deeper disclosure. The intention is not to force conversation, but to make it possible.

For managers and colleagues, this can feel unfamiliar. It moves away from problem solving and towards curiosity. It asks for attention not only to what is being said, but to how it is being said, and what might be sitting alongside it.

Creating environments where more can be said.

For this kind of listening to take place, the wider environment matters.

People are more likely to communicate openly when they feel that what they say will be received without judgement or consequence. This is shaped over time, through consistent responses, clear boundaries, and an understanding that mental health is part of working life, not separate from it.

It also involves recognising that not all distress will be visible. Some of it will continue to sit quietly, even in supportive environments. The aim is not complete visibility, but increased possibility. The sense that if something needs to be said, there is space for it.

Moving beyond the words.

“I’m fine” is unlikely to disappear from workplace conversations. It serves a function, allowing people to move through interactions without needing to fully disclose what they are experiencing.

The question is not whether the phrase is used, but how it is understood. At The Steady Ground Co, our work often begins here. Supporting organisations to recognise the forms that distress can take, and to respond in ways that feel grounded rather than reactive. Through training, group facilitation, and work with leadership and HR teams, we focus on how environments can be shaped to hold more of what people bring with them.

This includes a particular focus on areas such as burnout, stress, and workplace trauma, including vicarious and organisational experiences that are often present but rarely named. Our sessions are designed to create space for these conversations in a way that feels contained, considered, and practical.

High-functioning distress does not always ask for attention directly. It tends to appear in fragments, in language that is easy to move past. Learning to hear it differently is not about adding complexity, but about noticing what is already there.

And responding to it, before “I’m fine” is all that is left to say.