Have you ever found yourself saying, through gritted teeth, “Everything’s fine.”

Me too. Even when everything is absolutely.not.fine.

Mine comes from a feeling that the person who is asking is not really asking, or that anything other than fine isn’t acceptable.

As women, we are especially prone to this masking of our pain. Of having to be the ones left standing, the caretakers, nurturers and helping hands. The ones who feel that we have to be fine.

I wonder about that, especially when I come upon a curious greeting I’ve noticed recently. It goes something like this:

“How are you fine?”

[That’s not a typo.]

That one stops me in my tracks every time.

“How are you fine?”

What I hear is: “I don’t really care if you’re fine or not. It’s just a rote greeting.”

It leaves me paralyzed and confused.

Do I still answer even though the other person has basically answered for me?

And what if the answer in that moment is something other than fine, whether it’s magnificent or terrible?

I would like to live in a world where we care about each other. (This does not mean it is always appropriate to launch into a 20-minute rant about your messy teenager.)

It means that there is no shame in saying, “I’m not fine. I’m having a hard time.” It means that you at least have the option to do so, without your state being presumed or negated by the person asking.

Can you be a person who can receive that answer without blame or shame?

Can you be a person who can give that answer without blame or shame?

That’s what I’m talking about.

So I ask, with a full desire to REALLY KNOW, “How are you?”

Feel free to answer in any way you like.