For the second time, I've come up with a title for my blog post only to find out there's already a television show with the same title. In this case, the show is South Korean, but I assure you that the title on the screenshot/link above, in case you can't read it, translates to the title of the post.
I didn't steal the title from the television show; instead, I stole it from a chapel talk by two of my colleagues. (Hi, EM and KM!) And "stole" is a bit strong, since I asked for and got the enthusiastic permission from the person to write this piece who wrote about being okay with not being okay, but you get the idea.
In any case, after their inspiring tag-team chapel talk, I wanted to write my version of this message. The speech centered on a choice one man made at the lowest moment of his life to tell the truth to the stranger (Hi, KRM!) sitting next to him on a plane. When his first instinct was to say nothing to the unknown man asking him questions and his second was to lie, he went with his third option, and told his seat mate that he was not okay. Those words changed both of their lives for the better. I'd argue that his decision to open up actually changed my life and hundreds of Hotchkiss students', faculty's, and staffs' lives for the better, too, as the man wouldn't be working here if not for that decision and wouldn't have given us his message.
So after hearing that chapel talk, I wanted to write my version of why it's okay to be not okay. I think about how many times people ask, "How are you?" when what they mean is "Hello." More, I think of how many times we respond, "Fine," when what we mean is, "I don't have the energy or time to tell you my real answer," or "I don't think you care to hear my real answer." Any positive, one-word response is probably true some of the time, but not always.
And I'm not arguing that we need to share our worst moments with everyone who happens across our paths, but I would argue (have argued) that people can't help us fix what we don't let them see. Unless we have enough help to get to where we want to go (physically, financially, emotionally, spiritually), we must seek and ask for assistance. Some people might offer their aid unsolicited, but most don't. If we can share how we're not okay and listen with an open mind and heart to people's answers to that generic greeting, maybe we can get the help we need to get from wherever we are to okay.
When's a time you exposed a vulnerability, asked for help, and came out in a better place? Please share your stories in the comments.
In much of the USA, a common greeting, at least among adults, is “How are you?” For a number of years, I’ve been bothered by that question. I dislike saying, or writing, things I know are not true. And answering that question is snot easy. It takes time to sort out one’s feeling much of the time. Even the cubs winning (a game, the Series) typically can produce mixed emotions. How am I—this instant before your question, the past few hours, today, this week. Usually too complex to answer. Especially when it seems the asker really doesn’t care what the answer is, and likely doesn’t want to hear a downer tale. I still remember when I was asked that by a colleague as they stepped into an elevator, and the door closed as the question finished before I could even start an answer.
Chatting recently with a colleague who had spent several years in Africa, he mentioned that in Bantu/swahili it is customary to greet with the “How are you” question and to provide the customary response, “Fine”, although Fine is an incomplete answer. The customary answer is “Fine, but… [a tale of small or larger woes].
I too have often lamented the fundamental dishonesty of “fine” as an answer to what is a question only at its more superficial level. I usually don’t answer directly, saying something along the lines of “Have a great day!” instead.