When someone asks, “how are you?” what’s your go-to response? Do you even have a go-to response to that? Maybe you respond perfunctorily and without any real thought, offering up a basic four-letter word, such as “okay” or “good” or “fine,” although you could say, “fine and dandy” to elevate yourself from basic to something entertaining. Not quite “extra,” as the kids say these days, but it’s not “basic.”
What are my go-to replies? When I’m feeling saucy I say, “10 fingers and 10 toes.” Sometimes I’ll say something along the lines of, “the sun is shining and the grass is green;" I can’t complain,” but only when I’m feeling a bit happier and optimistic. There’s more where those came from, and I guarantee that even my sad moods typically receive a narrative reframing in order to inspire positivity.
Lately, however, slapping on that mask and delivering a freakishly happy optimism only seen in Disney musicals isn’t such an easy or desired task. When you hear those three little words, “how,” “are,” and “you,” I pause for a second. I wonder to myself and think, do they really want to know?”
My emotional floodgates are strong, thus they stay securely in place, protecting you from the discomfort of the conversation getting a little too real when all you wanted to do is be polite like propriety demands. Protects me, too, as the cathartic release to non-friends (or even some friends) only results in becoming embarrassed or feeling like I shit my pants in public, metaphorically speaking.
However, I like the real. When I ask my friends how they’re doing, that is an open invitation to let it all out. I hug when I don’t have a more appropriate reaction, but I’m there for you. I want the same, too. I want you to be available for me, but understand that it’s not always easy for me to remove the filter.
This article started off as something different altogether, but I’m okay where the narrative has traveled. This was meant to be about me, but this is about me encouraging people to be more real, to be more sincere. When you ask someone how he or she is doing, only do so if you’re really interested and have a few minutes to spare.
If you’ve spent enough time reading what I have to say, then I’ll reward you with the information my headline hints at. For sake of playing the game, imagine that you just asked me how I’m doing.
I feel like I’m losing my dad a little bit more each day. If he even recognizes my siblings or me, I consider that a gift from the gods. That gift, however, is tainted with pain because obscuring the light of my father’s once bright eyes is a visible betrayal or the obvious pain of feeling abandoned.
I tell myself that my father is gone, that this man in front of me isn’t my father as I once knew him, but that’s a lie. He is there, if only sometimes, and I feel like a terrible son because I don’t want to be around my father when he needs family the most. As much as I am depressed looking at the current state of my father, how must he feel when his mind clears enough to realize exactly what is happening to him?
Does he even realize what’s happening? That’s a question I have to ask myself often because I’m not always so sure. I doubt he knows what’s really happening to him in the cognitive sense, but he knows he isn’t “home,” whether that’s his current legal residence or the home in which his mother raised him.
I want my father to feel safe because I don’t think he does. He might not fully comprehend everything going on around him, but he’s aware that he’s not in a place of security, at least how his mind perceives safety and security.
Regarding my father’s status, there’s more, but I only really care about the Reader’s Digest condensed version. Do you get where I’m coming from, however, in not really appreciating the almost stock question, “how are you?” The responder can answer truthfully, but I doubt the asker was truly that curious. Yes, I am a cynic, in case you’re thinking that.
My advice to you, the asker: only ask if you’re willing to spare a few minutes of your time. That doesn’t mean you have to sit down for three hours and a few bottles of wine but allow the person you ask an opportunity to be real for a few minutes.
My advice to you, the asked: be honest. If you’re not doing so hot, then say so. If you have things you really need to get off your chest, don’t just immediately pour our your entire soul, but don’t tell someone, even a random person, that you’re fine when you’re not.
My advice to everyone? Stop being so basic. Embrace the real.
#TooReal
