You see a friend, casually walking the other direction. On their face, you can see that something’s just not right. What’s wrong? What happened? Do they need to talk about it? Hoping to be supportive, you reach out to them and ask: “Are you okay?” Sounds good, right? You’re being a good friend. You want to take care of them in their time of need, and you can clearly see that this is that time.

Here is where I ask you to pause. I want you to put yourself in their shoes. You’re having a rough day, a rough week, a rough month, a rough year. You’re struggling to keep it together, and just want to get through the day, so you can come home and veg and forget that other people even exist. And then someone you care about, someone you trust, asks, “Are you okay?” Immediately, every lid you put on all the emotions surrounding what’s bothering you are threatening to pop open. You’re struggling to maintain composure so intensely that you wish you were giving a cat a bath instead. What can you do? Lie to your friend? Or just give up and cry, right then and there?

This very dilemma is one that I have been posed with many times. (Yes, I am fine; no, I don’t need to talk about it; yes, you can totally still buy me coffee, though.) You’re feeling down, and just don’t feel like trying to pretend to smile. It’s tedious, it’s difficult, and oftentimes doesn’t even work. So you just wear your sadness. However, this comes at the price of everyone trying to pry you open like a walnut that’s had its shell super-glued shut. Because, so often, we expect the norm of everyone’s emotions to be pleasant and chipper, and any deviation from that is a cause for concern. So, instead of allowing ourselves to experience our sadness and just ride it out, we prolong it by trying to wear a happy face to avoid having to field a thousand inquiries about our well-being.

So my question to you is, why? Why are we so insistent on making the suffering of others our business? I know, I know, we always want the best for those we care about, and want to do our best to make them as happy as possible, so we try to involve ourselves because we care. However, I want you to put aside your personal investments here and follow me on this logically. If your friend is so distraught that they absolutely have to talk to you about it, wouldn’t they do it on their own, without you asking? If they consider you someone they want to know, and if they’re even ready to talk about it, they’ll open up to you on their own. And if you’re really so concerned that you can’t just wait for them to do so, why not try texting them to ask? This serves the dual benefit of a) you get to know what’s going on, potentially; and b) your friend has a way out, since they don’t have to answer immediately or try to lie right to your face, if they choose to not tell you at all.

The point is, you need to grant your friend the option of telling you, as well as the option of not telling you. The illusion of this will not suffice. By asking your friend the yes/no question of “Are you okay? ” you are forcing them to choose between the truth they most likely don’t want to face, or lie to someone they care about. And, in this time of increased stress and personal and professional turmoil, you shouldn’t do that to them. Allow them the choice of pretending everything is all right. Ask a simple “How are you?” “What’s up?” “How’ve you been?” Don’t make it obvious that you think they’re not doing okay by asking them just that. Because I think, right now, we all need a little assurance that we’re keeping it together.