“How are you doing?” says anyone.
A seemingly harmless question asked usually without really wanting the true response. If people ask this question and you answer honestly, they are somewhat caught off guard, and in their head they are thinking, I was just sort of saying hello. I don’t really want to hear this because what you are saying makes me uncomfortable.
Someone reminded me recently of the traditions of the Victorians. When mourning the loss of someone, women would dress all in black and wear veils to hide their faces. Though this seems like these women were ashamed of their grief and hiding their pain, now that I am in the shittiest club ever, the grieving parents club, I see it for what it is. Those women didn’t have to explain anything or pretend to make others feel comfortable. Every knew how they were doing. If anyone asked, they knew the gravity, the depth, the ache in the question.
Well, if you ask me this question and you really want to know, any of the following responses, at any given time are true. At any given time.
I am angry.
I am sad.
I am exhausted.
I am confused.
I am in shock.
I am in pain.
I am on the verge of tears or crying.
I have written before about wearing my human costume. When you ask me how I am doing, you unknowingly force me to look inside my own costume and think about how I am doing. It’s never a good moment for me. So, the next time anyone asks me how I am doing, I will probably say I am doing OK, but I”ll be lying.
Welcome to the shit storm.