HOW AM I DOING?

Hi there,

Of all the questions we are asked, the one we hear most frequently by far, is 'How are you doing?' Whenever we're asked that question, there's two things we can do. Firstly, we can tell the truth and elaborate on our emotions and feelings of that week, day, or moment. But this is not what we usually do. The question 'How are you doing?' isn't meant to start a lengthy conversation on the deep, abstract misbehaviour of our subconscious. It's meant to say: 'Hey, I'm interested in you and I think you're nice, but let's not become best friends or anything.' So most of us choose the second option and say, as sincerely as possible; 'I'm fine'.

Just that. Those three words. I am fine.

And sometimes we believe ourselves. We believe that we're happy, not a care in the world. But let me tell you something. No one has ever replied with 'I'm fine' and spoken the whole truth. It's in our nature to always be worried. Whether it be about your loved ones in illness or if you can make it home in time for your favourite TV show. We are never truly fine. And so, I came to think, if I were to answer the question truthfully, what would I say?

Would I say that I've been worried about my future? Would I say that I've been lonely for a very long time? Would I dare say that I think I desperately need help, but am too afraid to act on it? Would I say that I'm in so very deep, but I'm managing okay? Would I tell of my ups and downs, and that from each of those perspectives, the other end seems impossible? Would I have the balls to tell the truth? That I'm actually not doing fine?

Because I'm not. I'm not fine.

I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not fine. I'm not. But that's fine.

That's fine. I know I'm not fine, and I'm coping. Some days are better than others. Some days are worse. But they're just days, and I've got more where they came from. There are days that I would like to lock myself in my room, draw the curtains, crawl into bed and never, ever, come out to see the light of day again. There are also days that I'm aware of my state and I accept it. Which ultimately lifts it off my shoulders and makes it bearable. And that's all I have wished for and all I ever will wish for. Bearable is good. Bearable is great. Bearable is better than living in agony.

So.

How are you doing?

Love,

Rosaly