There are only a few acceptable responses we’re allowed to give to questions like “How are you?”

I hate that.

One morning years ago during hospital rounds, I couldn’t keep the panic from my eyes. Couldn’t keep my mind focused on the questions. The numbers. The matters at hand. All those hurting patients right in front of my face.

Because the night before, I found a black sock tucked in the rafters of our basement. My hands trembled as I unwrapped it to find evidence of just how bad things were with my husband. Pills and powders and all sorts of scary things. My mind flashed to our newborn asleep in the crib upstairs.

And that next morning when the attending physician fixed his eyes on my worried face and asked, “Mikala, is everything okay?”

I longed to say no. I wanted to scream it, actually. “No. NOOOOO!!!! Everything is NOT okay. Everything is broken. My husband. My marriage. My life. It’s all falling apart. Addiction is overtaking us.”

But instead I softly replied, “I’m fine. Sorry. I’m just…tired, I guess.”

Because no one wants to hear all that. No one quite knows what to DO with any of that. Plus, there’s work to be done, right?

So, I soldiered on. Alone. Pretending. Just getting my work done. Fumbling around for a very long while until finally one day…everything DID break. And things very slowly began to change. We both began to change.

Now my husband is clean and sober 12 years.

And I guess today I am hoping to tell you…

I know you’re out there. Pretending. Trotting out that same tired response, “I’m fine.” Getting your work done. Holding it all together.

And yes. I know. I realize we can’t walk around spilling our problems out on anyone we see.

After all, there are kids to raise. Businesses to run. Deadlines to meet. People to help. Houses to clean. Dinners to make. Homework to monitor. Problems to attend to. There’s always work to be done, right?

I just wanted you to hear…

If your answer to ‘How are you?’ is actually “I’m awful.” If today you feel all alone. If you’re struggling under the weight of what feels like an insurmountable problem. If everything feels broken. If the pain feels completely unbearable to carry all on your own…

I know.

You’re NOT fine. Not in the slightest.

And I know that hurts like hell.

Soldier on, sweet sister.

I’m here. Take my hand. I’ll do my best to carry it WITH you.

Because sometimes, I’m not fine either.