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.

2 Star.

a song to set the scene // i’ve got a thing about trains by johnny cash

It all started with a kid running through the railcar.

He had a face full of joy, as any child would, as he made laps up and down the train.

Thing is: running is… not allowed.

And so, as I was preparing myself to crush this child’s dream, my mom, who happens to be my boss, and who is also very sensitive to kids running in her railcar, suddenly turned around and brusquely told me she’d handle it.

Not good. Not good.

Though I didn’t hear the conversation, I could tell by her walk that she was upset. High on emotion, I knew it probably wasn’t the best way to handle this particular situation.

Sure enough, shortly after my mom talked with the boy, the family left.

Couple of minutes later, I received an email notification.

So and so left you a review.

Uh oh.

2 stars.

Oh no.

I knew, even before I confirmed the name, that it came from the family that had just been in.

And I was pissed.

Not at the review though, mind you, but at my mother.

See, I had had a lovely interaction with this family.

I had upsold them on a pour over, we had joked about kids and their hot chocolates, and so I knew this review wasn’t about their experience with me, but about their final moments with my mom.

And it was all thanks to this darn kid running through the railcar.

I was upset then, for multiple reasons.

Most important of which had to do with boundaries between me and my mom (or lack, thereof); who, again, happens to be my boss.

Upon receiving this review, I then went storming over to meet with my gem.

I needed to vent.

So in rapid fire speed, I explained the situation and within minutes I came to the conclusion, on my own, that I needed to approach my mom about it today. Like now.

With mere minutes to spare before my next shift, I told my sister, who also happens to be my boss, and who is also very sensitive to family drama before a dinner shift that I needed to speak with Mom.

“Good luck. She’s not in a good mood.”

Noted.

Walking upstairs, I asked my mom if she could step away for a minute, then I took her outside and sat down.

Pulling up my boss pants, I sat across from her. And for the first time, I started the very difficult conversation not as a daughter to a mother, but as an adult to an adult.

I started by asking her if she was able to accept information about work, that of which had to do directly with her.

Looking at me nervously, I then told her about the 2 star review.

She was defensive, of course. She felt it had been justified, as it was to protect her railcar, her house, her rules.

And it was justified. We have rules, there’s no running in the railcar, and that child needed to be corrected, absolutely.

What perturbed me most, however, was that I wasn’t able to enforce those rules.

Brushed aside, I felt I hadn’t been given the trust and responsibility of handling the particular situation that was my job to handle in the first place. And as a result, my mom’s sensitivity to kids running with reckless abandon in her place of business was handled rather emotionally.

So as we’re sitting there, having this very real conversation, I realize that this conversation is a first of its kind.

I like firsts.

Especially when they’re the result of much needed boundary setting.

Though new, and nerve-racking, and potentially devastating to the success of the dinner shift that was fast approaching, it felt natural, good, and right.

At the end of our meeting, I felt, for the first time, that my voice had been heard.

In the extremely challenging mother/daughter/boss/manager relationship, I felt significant progress had been made. For the first time, I was encouraged by how effectively we were able to talk through a problem, adult to adult.

Moral of the story? 2 star reviews suck.

And while I will forever experience trauma when I get a notification that someone left us a review, and though I feel it is the most cowardly way to give feedback to businesses that are doing their darnedest to make people happy, you can always learn from the experience.

Look at it this way: had we not gotten that review, my mom and I would’ve missed out on an incredible opportunity to grow in our mother/daugther/boss/manager relationship.

So and so: thank you for the 2 star review.

But please: no running in the railcar.