It’s okay not to be okay.

a song to set the scene // who you are by jessie j

The other day, I stumbled across a meme.

A meme which hit a little too close to home.

Feeling all too real, I thought of my spot at work where I go to cry.

For me, it’s the water room.

Propped up against a 500 gallon tub of water with the lights off, it is my ultimate safe space.

Having cried there dozens of times before, it was a shock to me then when just the other day, someone found me in there.

In a moment of vulnerability, I was sitting with my knees to my chest, once again crying, when all of a sudden, the door swung upon and in walked the unsuspecting pastry chef.

Surprised to see me (considering the state I was in) I quickly made an attempt at wiping up my snotty face.

“Are you okay?” he asked me.

I stopped. Did he just ask this bawling mess on the floor if I was okay?

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I responded too quickly, obviously everything but fine.

He grabbed his cupcake tray, and as he was leaving, said, “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

The door shut and I sat there, stunned.

Someone just asked me if I was okay. Someone…. actually… cared.

Honestly, it was just the thing I needed to hear because after that interaction, I suddenly felt better.

I felt seen, and noticed, and in that moment, that was apparently all I needed.

And then it got me thinking: why is it such a thing to tell people we’re “okay” when we’re so obviously not? Furthermore, why do we do everything in our power to deny such feelings as being “not okay” ?

In another session that involved me once again crying, I noticed just how often I was being told that I was okay.

I felt agitated by this statement. Caught in the cross-hairs of family drama, there were a lot of things I was feeling, none of which felt okay.

So why are we told to believe such lies?

What I’ve noticed, is that socially speaking, it’s not okay to be not okay. It’s not okay to feel feelings. It’s not okay to cry, even in a safe place at work. It’s not okay to embrace whatever experience you’re having, especially if it might make others feel uncomfortable. And so, to avoid making other people feel disconcerted with how we’re truly feeling, we lie.

We hide, in water rooms at work, we quickly wipe away tears and spit out half truths, like “Yeah, I’m fine!” and bury whatever feelings we’re feeling because we’ve been told, by parents, by friends, by tv, by ourselves that it’s not okay to not be okay.

In a conversation with my counselor, I was telling him about stumbling across a devastating message I had received from a friend months ago. Ending our eight year friendship over text, I had deleted the message almost instantly, aching and hurt. Well, I stumbled across the message the other day on my iMac and a whole slew of feelings came up.

The wound was apparently still tender.

With everyone around me telling me, “It’s okay, move on, stop living in the past,” I once again felt that I wasn’t being authentic to myself by burying these very real feelings.

Not surprisingly, I was told that I was right. That though something happened in the past, my feelings were happening in the present, and they deserved recognition and compassion.

And then he told me the wound might take years to heal.

Buuuuuut that’s another story.

What I realized in all of this was that feelings are normal and they warrant a place to be felt. A safe place, an honest place.

Currently?

I’m not okay.

And that’s the honest truth.

I’m overwhelmed, I'm not taking care of myself, and sometimes, I feel like no matter how much effort I put into I put into making boundaries between work and home, I somehow manage to twist them all together, affecting me and the ones I love.

The pasty chef could obviously tell I was not okay. And it meant the world that he recognized that because it made me realize that maybe if I start being honest about how I’m truly feeling, I can welcome in the care and compassion I really need.

Sometimes, it’s just acknowledgement: that we’re seen and accepted for exactly who we are.

But no one’e gonna know we’re not okay unless we start speaking our truths.

Luckily, this pastry chef saw right through me.