"I'm fine, thanks!" And, sometimes, that's precisely how we feel. But, in many other situations, "I'm fine!" is a white lie said to better fit in with our peers. Living with depression, Megan Potts looks at five "socially acceptable" phrases she uses when asked the dreaded, "How are you?" and reveals the true meaning behind her platitudes.
"I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"
Asking someone how they are is rarely an invitation to have a heart-to-heart. "Hi, how are you?" is now a go-to greeting, asked by everyone from friends and family to shop assistants and virtual strangers.
We're taught early on that "Hi, how are you?" shouldn't have an answer beyond a perfunctory platitude and an echo of the same question.
This is okay. Sometimes, "fine" works as a catch-all for our feelings at any given moment. Moods and feelings constantly fluctuate, so we all strive for a baseline.
However, a simple "How are you?" can trigger an entire emotional stocktake on other days. As we reply with the usual, "I'm fine," our minds open 200 tabs and force us to sort through them all simultaneously. We're reminded of ongoing issues, the squeeze of anxiety in our guts, arguments, work stress, and the random worries that spook us.
And we're still dwelling on all this stuff long after our 10-second interaction.
Everyone does it. But has the expectation of "I'm fine" stopped us from reaching out during honest conversations?
Even in safe spaces, like a friend's house or therapist's office, feeling "fine" is my go-to defense against rejection or being seen as a "burden."
When I was young, constant tensions within the family taught me how to be small. I would spend most of my time in the background, just "part of the furniture," until I had to step in and play peacekeeper.
My household dynamic meant that invisibility was my survival tactic, and I carried it into adulthood. I don't reach out to people or explode at my lowest. Instead, I withdraw and turn all those nasty, uncomfortable feelings in on myself.
"People have their own troubles," I tell myself. "They don't need you begging for a shoulder to cry on."
Of course, my loved ones have known me long enough to see several of my mental health cycles. They're now quick to notice the warning signs, so they'll ask me questions.
I'm getting better at being honest. But, some days, sorting through my 200 tabs is too exhausting. I fall back into my old routines and prolong things more than I should. My friends aren't psychic. Stock response after stock response from me either convinces them I'm okay, or they give up for a while.
Today, I want to share some of my stock phrases and what goes through my mind when I say them. How many of these have you used before?
Let's start with the most obvious one. On bad days, "I'm fine" is a blanket term for any emotions I struggle to pin a sunny face on. I mean, it's the stereotypical socially acceptable response.
Insecurity, rage, irritability, anxiety, physical pain... if I can't figure out how to sugarcoat these feelings, "fine" is my catch-all.
This is a classic example of sugarcoating the truth. I suffer from debilitating chronic pain in my back. It's gone on so long that I no longer see it as a talking point.
So, if I admit something as vanilla as "I'm coping," that's my code for:
It must be better to hide my feelings than burden others with all the above.
Living with a chronic illness means facing the same battle all the time, possibly forever. There are only so many times you can complain about it before you start to feel self-conscious.
Even the most sympathetic, caring people have their limits. I’m convinced that answering "Are you okay?" truthfully will cause others to label me a “lost cause” or “always miserable.”
This is a socially acceptable response (i.e., it's light enough to go under the radar). Still, it also says I'm trying my best without implying that I'm winning at life.
Because I am doing my best, but I'm always convinced it's not enough.
I feel like I'm letting everyone down, especially when people try to shame me for struggling. I fear my "best" is making things worse for everyone around me.
During my crisis points, I want to be held. I yearn for soft hands smoothing down my hair as someone convinces me everything will be alright.
I wish someone would take the reins from my hand and say, "Hey. I'll work on the big stuff for now. Let these go."
Because when you're overwhelmed, trying to do the bare minimum is fighting a losing battle.
When I say the above, I've pushed myself to my absolute limit and may be approaching burnout. My damaged body screams against these extreme conditions, but I ignore the hell I'm putting it through.
When I try to overcompensate by achieving "everything," that's me trying to steer myself away from the negative path I've spotted ahead.
Although it may not sound like it, this is a huge step forward in my mental health journey. I can now recognize upcoming "bumps in the road," and I'm trying to redirect myself before a crisis happens.
But I still refuse to ask for help, and that's to my detriment. Forcing myself to walk miles, work for over 12 hours day after day, or focus beyond exhaustion is not healthy.
It's still a way of causing psychological harm, but I've fooled myself with a brand-new shortcut.
That's a deeper look into my mind than most people have ever seen.
From speaking to others, I know deflection, denial, and sugarcoating aren't all that uncommon. Who hasn't said, "I'm fine!" or "I'm doing great!" at times when the opposite may be true?
But if you revert to social platitudes a lot, even with those you consider close, you need to consider why you do it and what it may mean.
Do you think minimizing and distracting from the problem is the best way forward?
While acknowledging our use of "socially acceptable responses" won't solve these fears, sharing our experiences with them may encourage more conversations about mental health.
Consider if you've ever relied on any of these phrases, and then think if you know anyone else who has.
And if you aren't sure that someone's "I'm fine" is neutral but genuine, don't be afraid to ask twice.
The information presented is solely for educational purposes, not as specific advice for the evaluation, management, or treatment of any condition.
The individual(s) who have written and created the content and whose images appear in this article have been paid by Teva Pharmaceuticals for their contributions. This content represents the opinions of the contributor and does not necessarily reflect those of Teva Pharmaceuticals. Similarly, Teva Pharmaceuticals does not review, control, influence, or endorse any content related to the contributor's websites or social media networks. This content is intended for informational and educational purposes and should not be considered medical advice or recommendations. Consult a qualified medical professional for diagnosis and before beginning or changing any treatment regimen.
NPS-ALL-NP-01373 SEPTEMBER 2024