fine

Fine.
Everything is fine.
It’s just fine.
Fine. Fine. Fine.

Fine.

Fine is the word that usually means “not-fine.”

How are you?
Fine.

Someone hurt you.
It’s fine.
I’m fine.

Yet when I use that word, am I ever actually fine?

Truthfully, I do fear pessimism.
I see it as a negative quality.
And quite honestly, I tend to lean that way.
A lot.

We all know that person that is constantly griping.
Who is constantly telling you all the bad that has been happening.
Who never can see the light in a dark situation.

It we are honest.
That person is draining.

It’s true.

I don’t want to be that person.

Negative emotions are hard for me.
They are overwhelming.
They feel wrong.
I avoid them.
I shove them down.
Deep.
And they boil.

It’s super healthy… I know, I know…

So what happens when things are not fine?
What about when someone hurts you?
When life hurts?
When you get sick?
Really sick?
When you desperately need help?

It is hard for me to admit the “not-fine.”

It is.

Maybe because it is hard to be authentic.
It’s hard to admit that I am wearing a mask of “fine.”
I fear that someone will know I do not have it all together.
That things are not fine.

It is hard to take the mask off.
To know who exactly to trust.

Because the last thing I want is my “not-fine” being blabbed and shared with the world.

I need safety and acceptance when things are “not fine.”

But can we please stop faking it?

Be selective in who you share your “not-fine” to.
That’s ok.
I believe that is wise.

But I also believe that the culture of perfectionism is killing us all.

We strive to have it all together.
We want the magazine-cover face.
The pinterest skills.
The fitness body.
The perfect family.

But do any of us really have all of those?

I mean really?

Who are we all trying to fool?

It’s ok to be “not fine.”