I called my fiance last night and was insulted that he only gave me 14 minutes of his time.
14 whole minutes.
I should probably admit that I called him around 1:00 a.m. his time and he that answered from a dead sleep, asked about my evening, shared briefly about his day, told me he loved me, double-checked a few times to make sure I was okay…and finally said goodnight and hung up when he realized I wasn’t going to give him more than ‘I’m fine’.
I’m fine.
I insisted.
I’m fine, but actually, if I told you how I really felt, I’d be in tears…and it’s late, and I’m irrational, and it’s unfair for me to call you so late and expect you to have an hour long conversation with me… so, I’m fine.
He knows me well enough to know that I’ll eventually tell him what’s going on, and I did. A day later with apology ringing in my voice as I continued to try to swallow my irrationality…
Because aren’t we too often fine?
The truth is that I walked to work yesterday morning, suddenly very aware of my loneliness. So, later that night, after processing and dwelling, when I said I’m fine… I probably meant to say, I’m lonely. Only, that doesn’t sound as nice. That isn’t as conducive to a short conversation in the middle of the night when you’re just trying to touch base.
But I couldn’t hide the dissatisfaction in my tone.
I wasn’t fine.
And he knew it.
We use fine when we want to get others off our back. Sometimes we use fine when we really want others to pry and find out what’s really going on. Sometimes we use it because we can recognize that our reason for being upset/disappointed is irrational and so we’re really just trying to convince ourselves that we’re fine.
We hide behind fine.
We choose to run from others, to block them out… by insisting that we’re fine.
But sometimes we’re not.
And sometimes it’s okay.
And sometimes we need to let people in.
Sometimes we need to seek them out.
Sometimes we have to step out from behind fine and expose whatever it is that’s weighing on us.
Sometimes we’re fine because we’re too often telling others that we’re fine. So then they stop asking, stop caring, stop trying… and quickly our fine is hiding much more hurt as people slip out of our lives.
There’s wisdom in honesty, in letting others know us, in admitting when we’re not fine.
Would you choose to believe that when someone asks, they might want to know more about how you are than fine? Would you tell them? Would you stop hiding? Would you stop damaging relationships and running from the people who care about you the most because you keep insisting that you’re fine?
No more excuses.
It just isn’t worth it.
Because sometimes, we just aren’t fine.
And it’s o.k.a.y.