News Article

"How are you?"

By Matthew Denipitiya

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A pair of cabaret masks. To the left, a lively yellow mask adorned with a red ribbon exudes laughter

By Matthew Denipitiya 
 

"How are you?"

It's a simple question; one we ask, and get asked, every day. Depending on the day, and who I'm talking to, I often lie when answering it.

Some of it comes down to the fact that it's rarely meant as a genuine query about your wellbeing. Some of it comes down to the fact that I don't want to tell everyone I meet about my full medical history, or my tumultuous past with mental health issues. Whatever the reason, it's oddly draining to give the standard, expected response: "Good, thanks."

When I answer "how are you?", I don't mention that the hum of the air conditioning is a constant and distracting annoyance, or that the bright lights are on their way to giving me a headache. I don't mention how the cold weather makes my joints feel like they're made of rusted cogs grinding against each other, or how I went through my last class unsure of exactly what my group were saying because the chatter in the background drowned their voices out. I don't mention that a fatigue flare-up is hovering just out of sight, and only needs a little too much exertion to come back and make me miss another half-week of uni. I don't mention that every step I take is accompanied by dull pain in my hip, knees, or feet. Although I struggle with social conventions, I know these truths are not what people expect to hear when they ask out of politeness, and so I don't say them. 

Why, then, is it so uncomfortable to reply "I'm fine, thanks" to a common courtesy? 

There are a few things I’ve thought about to explain this, including how I generally don’t like to lie, but I think I’ve worked it out after some introspection and time trying to unmask. I've discovered that my difficulty in saying "I'm fine" is that it becomes a bit of a promise. It's often subconscious, but if I have a conversation with someone and I tell them that "I've been alright", for instance, I start to change what I say and do so that I seem, to them at least, to feel better than I do. I make less accommodations for myself, I stretch myself thinner and I say ‘no’ much less than I ought to.

I'm not entirely sure why I do this, but I think some of it is down to the fact that people don't expect me to be disabled or chronically ill, because I don't fit into their mental picture of it. They can't see the pain I'm in, and they don't see me at all on bad fatigue days. I don't know what people think when they see me making accommodations for myself, like taking the lift or wearing headphones while in a noisy lecture. I try not to dwell on it. All it does is make me more anxious to exist as myself in public. I have a feeling they don't jump to the conclusion that I'm doing those things out of kindness to myself.

Another reason I feel inclined to tell people I’m fine is because I don't always want to be complaining about my disabilities. Being neurodivergent in a world not designed for it is tricky to navigate, sure, but it is why I see the world in the way I do and why I experience the joy I get from engaging in my hyperfixations or special interests. My chronic conditions do impact my life, at times negatively, but only really because of how inflexible the world around me is. The exception to this being the bad pain days, of course – those are just plain annoying. I don't want to give the idea that I hate being chronically ill, neurodivergent, and generally disabled because I truly don't. I am proud to be who I am.

Now that I've worked all this out, am I going to change my default answer to "how are you"? Probably… not. It really is just easier to not explain it all. However, I am going to try and stop perpetuating the tiny little lie I tell to fulfil their expectations. I don't need to make my life harder so that others believe that lie. Instead, I should focus on what I want to do. 

After all this, I just want to say something to anyone out there who has seen themselves in what I’ve written. I hope this will nudge you to stop trying so hard to seem fine all the time. I hope you start to take the time and space you need to accommodate yourself, even if you do lie when you answer: “how are you?”.

 
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