(78) The World's Biggest Lie (& How to Tell the Truth)

Take three innocent words, combine two, and the result is a sentence that is stronger than Kevlar and can hold back more than the Hoover Dam: "I’m fine."

Nothing gets in; nothing gets out.

Just ask anyone who is in any way troubled. Alright, then, ask me: Yes, it was unexpected and threw me off balance.

I guess you could even call it a tragedy; but I’m fine, really; just as I was at sixteen when my sister died, and later when Mom did the same. And let’s include the times I broke my arm, lost a job, and went through a divorce.

But even if I was not fine, would you really want to know?

If you did, I think you would ask a different question, because Are you okay? comes very close to salivating as it begs for that one, single response: I’m fine.

Not convinced? What happens when someone starts releasing their turmoil? Don’t most people stampede for higher ground while the rest struggle to hold a sympathetic expression, try not to fidget and wish they had made a break with the others?

Of the two categories, runner and fidgeter, I have to admit to always leading the pack; and this, I am told, is one of the downsides to always being fine.

​​​​​​​Another downside is freezing up around emotion. The one time I was not quick enough to run and got caught in another’s emotional storm, my brain froze along with my tongue, and I felt very, very nervous.

There is also supposed to be the downside of an occasional overreaction (dam burst), but that hardly ever happens to me; well, almost never; honest.

But okay, I agree. Given what has happened, it might be good to talk with someone to ease the pain (if I were really that hurt); and avoid the downside (if it were really that bad).

And if I could find someone who would not run, or fidget, along with just the right moment to begin, well then, probably, I would, you know, talk about it.

Because it is important to get these things out in the open to free ourselves of the burden. Right?

Emotional Release

Such a cute ending. I especially liked the way it so neatly avoided the truth.

The opposite of I’m fine is to take a chance: to let out an emotional or physical pain and let in the concern, caring, and support of others.

But how can we do that without stampeding those around us? Easy. By using a normal tone of voice.

Just talking about our pain, without a deluge of emotion, and dramatic language, can bring a surprising amount of relief and deepen the connection with those around us.

And, of course, the brave souls who do answer the question Are you okay? with quiet honesty give the rest of us the permission (and motivation) to do the same.

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