The Two Words That Are Not Part of Honest Conversation

On Saturday this last week, I got into an argument with my husband. Now this is actually rare because typically we don't argue much at all. We've known each other since we were 13 years old and have spent almost half our life's together - but our story is not what this is about.

This particular arguement started over something that should have been simple, one of those regular decisions that in a healthy discussion takes about ten minutes. But instead of ten minutes, we ended up in that cold, quiet standoff where nobody's yelling but nobody's talking either, and both people are absolutely certain the other one is being unreasonable. That standoff took all of Saturday afternoon, all of Saturday evening and ended with us each on our sides of the bed at 10pm laying there not sleeping but in silence. 

Now earlier in the day, I did what I always do when I need to think deeply. I got in the car and just drove, alone, no agenda, just moving because it was raining outside. And somewhere between the highway and the parking lot of a store I didn't really need to go to, I realized something important. We weren't arguing about the actual decision. We were each carrying a fear underneath it that we hadn't said out loud and the fears might not even be the same ones.

I went home later that day and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to figure out how to say just that. My oldest son asked me what was wrong and I said "I'm fine" and moved him along even though his glance said he didn't believe me.  By 10 pm I coudn't take the cold shoulder any longer and what I said was not gracefull and it wasn't with some perfectly crafted insight. I just said that I think we're both scared about something and neither of us is saying what it is. And that one sentence broke the tension. It moved us from silence to apology to "we'll figure this out together" faster than anything else I could have said.

The tendency that we all have to say "I'm fine" is actually a substitute. It's faster to respond with that than the truth and it keeps things moving along on the surface, and most of the time we don't even register that we're doing it. Someone asks how you're holding up and the answer comes automatically because the real answer would take more time, more vulnerability, more explanation than the moment seems to deserve.

The professional version of "I'm fine" or "at least I have a good job." or "I can't complain." or "it's stable, and that matters right now." These aren't lies. They're just the surface answer standing in for a harder conversation you haven't figured out how to start yet. And the longer the surface answer runs, the more it starts to feel like the real one. You stop noticing there's something underneath it because the substitute has been doing its job so well.

The cost isn't dramatic. It's not a breakdown or a crisis. It's a slow, quiet narrowing of what you expect from your own life and career, one automatic answer at a time. And the thing about substitutes is that they're most dangerous when they're working. You only question them when they stop.

THIS WEEK

Reasearch from the Mental Health Institute cites that the average person says "I'm fine" at least 14 times per week, but the same study shows that they mean it only 19% of the time. The next time someone asks you how work is going, catch yourself before you answer. Not to give a long drawn out answer but just to notice what you're about to say. Is the answer that's about to come out the real one, or is it the one you've been giving for so long it feels real or just easier? You don't have to say anything different. Just notice what your automatic response is.

🩵 ONE THING I'M LOVING

KC Green's Question Hound has been turned into an official licensed plush toy that's 8.5" tall, wearing his tiny bowler hat, in full denial mode. "This Is Fine" Official Plush Dog by BarkBox - I admit I ordered one, not for my dog Rocky to play with, but for myself and a few friends as a subtle but humorous reminder on the days when everything is decidedly not fine.

Remember, you are still the author of what comes next.

Warmly,

Heather

Anchored in Possibility™ | The future belongs to those who know who they are when everything changes.