Back when we were mere colleagues, I’d see Pete when I stopped by the office water cooler if he also happened to be on break.
And he’d do this thing that everyone does, but not the way other people do it.
He’d ask me, “How are you?”
He didn’t say those words to fill up air that would otherwise be empty after “Hi.” His eyes weren’t averted as he spoke—which I think is code for “You and I are not having a real conversation, and ‘fine’ or ‘good’ are your only two acceptable answers.”
Pete posed the question, ready to listen to a real answer from me, whatever it was.
I found that rather startling.
Until then, I hadn’t even asked myself, “How am I?” all that often. So when I was prompted to and did, I felt a rush of unexpected warmth and tenderness. I felt self-aware, not self-conscious, as I searched for words. What a gift it was to have someone sincerely interested in knowing how I was. What a relief it was to have permission to pause and check in with more curiosity than judgment.
So today, in the spirit of the holiday season, I’m paying this simple yet beautiful gift forward.
How are you?
How are you, really and truly?
There’s no wrong answer. Your answer doesn’t even need to make sense. If there’s a gap between your thoughts and feelings and what you think you’re supposed to say, that’s more than okay.
If you’d like, you can repeat the question and let things tumble out bit by bit.
On the hardest days, I’d make Pete wait for my answer to “How are you?” I knew he wouldn’t judge me no matter what I said, but I also didn’t want to word vomit my misery.
And in the thirty seconds I stood in silence, my hands cupped around my steaming mug of tea, I’d sometimes be surprised by a deep sense of okayness washing over me. There was ground beneath my hurt, frustration, or fear—solid, warm, and fecund. And so I’d say, “Actually, I’m good.”
May this earthly goodness hold you through whatever transitions you’re experiencing at the moment, and as one year closes to welcome in another.
