The Most Complicated Question

The one about "how are you."

This morning, I grabbed coffee with a friend/coworker who I hadn’t seen in person in ages. When we sat down with our lattes, one of the first things she asked was — like, you know, most normal people would — how I was doing. And I — like a not so normal person — stumbled in answering.

I realized in that moment, as I gave some sort of fuzzy non-answer, that I’m really bad at answering about how I am. Like embarrassingly bad. I straight up never know what to say to what is maybe the most common of questions. I shrug and deflect and end up with non-answers like “fine” and “good” and “oh, you know!” And I’m trying to remember now if I’ve always been like that, or if that's been another strange and unexpected byproduct of grief and experiencing a significant loss.

Without being provoked, I can barely tell my very best friends how I’m feeling (reallllllly feeling), and I don’t even just mean related to grief. I’m an equal opportunity deflector about my status as a human… I’m (usually) not telling just about anyone about the super bright stuff (you know, achievements, like a recent promotion at work) nor the darker stuff (like wishing my mom was here, and dreading the holiday season), unless someone’s asking me pointed questions, and I think I was always kind of that way. That’s just my baseline personality, and experiencing the loss of my mom only exacerbated it.

As I was sitting here thinking about how terrible I have become at responding to the most complicated simple question, I remembered that for more than half of my life, I also haven’t been so great at accepting compliments; I would, again, deflect and say “no, no” or something cloaked in politeness or modesty. I did that really until I was in my early 20s, after I dated someone who told me to just accept the compliments instead of arguing them away. (Reminder: it’s okay to just say thank you when someone compliments you. You don’t have to prove to them that they’re wrong, that your hair isn’t that cute or that actually, you’re a mess.) Anyways, the two (“how are you” non-responses and becoming compliment teflon) feel sort of similar — an inability to accept or say aloud the things about yourself that don’t feel comfortable or shiny or palatable for those outside of your own head. The trying to move on, and instead focus on someone else — their journey, their successes, their pain, instead of pulling anyone down into your own.

I think grief has a funny way of doing that; sometimes (a lot of times), it feels like people don’t want you to get your sad on them. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that people are only asking how you are to be polite — that they don’t really, actually want to hear the details. Don’t want to get weighed down by the anchors of your heartache, or your struggles. And maybe grieving isn’t necessarily unique in that way; living with chronic illness or dealing with divorce or new motherhood, and probably other life experiences I can’t even fathom. We feel like we’re the only one, like we can’t say the quiet part out loud, and that no one really wants to know about the ghosts you’re sitting with.

But, maybe they do.

In fact, I know they do. Some people, they want to hear it. I know because I’m one of those people, and I’m surely not unique there. I can’t be the only one. And if I want to hear how you’re truly doing, then maybe you also want to hear how I’m truly doing.

The ironic part about this morning (besides the fact that I word-vomit to the internet all the time about how I’m doing) is that actually, I’m pretty good! But this time of year is hard for me now, and I do indeed dread it, and so I feel like an awkward mosaic of conflicting emotions that are tough to get into in a light, easy-going “meet me at the coffee shop” sorta way. We contain multitudes, and if you’re nodding along here, well, maybe we can join forces and get better at admitting how we’re doing — the good and the bad.

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Coming at you late tonight, especially for my East Coasters, but thank you for being here, friends! By the way, if you are not feeling festive, not excited for Thanksgiving and the landslide into Christmas, I’m with ya. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to have your holiday look like anything or anyone else’s (including an older version of you) that doesn’t serve you here and now.

Thanks for reading,

Joelle

p.s. tell me how you’re doing, for real! Leave a comment or send me a note. To support me as a writer and help this little space grow, you can also like this post and/or share this it or the whole Substack with friends or over on social media. 💛