I am a very out person about my mood disorder. I wrote about it and talked about it in all my college applications and interviews; I mention it to everyone I know whenever relevant (and it often is); it’s in my bio here and on most social networking sites. I am an advocate for openness, for honesty, for forthrightness, for being out and proud as a person with a “mental illness.”
And yet, if you ask me how I am on any given day — even today, even when my sanity and stability are more potential and historical than current and actual –, I’ll probably say I’m OK. If you’re close to me, I might also tell you what’s going on today; if you know my mood history, I might tell you how else I’ve been feeling recently. But whether with a “more or less” appended to it or not, I will start with, and likely end with, “I’m OK.”
Why?
It is an affirmation; a statement of intention; a prayer to the universe. The more I say it, the more true it is likely to be — and oh do I want it to be. I need it to be.
It is a philosophical statement. Fundamentally, I am OK. I am privileged to have a comparatively easy life, with an understanding partner, a beautiful shining child, and the resources to do most of the things I need to do to be OK in the long run.
It is a temporal anomaly. I live in the moment; most of the time, I try to remember that, and it is especially important to do so when I my mood has not been stable. When you ask how I am, if you are worthy of an honest answer, I take a deep breath, center myself, and probably find that in this moment, I am OK. Stable? Not so much, but stability is a product of well-being over time: in the now when you ask me, I am OK (if you are a person who cares about me, you asking and caring about the answer may be enough for me to be OK in that moment). Now is all I ever have; now’s okayness may be the only answer you will get.
And, it is protection. I do not always have the spoons to let my mask down, to let you in — even if you love me and I love you –, to get into all the ways I might not be completely OK. Answering any other way might make me not OK, and frankly I’m tired of being unwell — bone-deep, wish-I-could-weep, wanna-sleep-until-it-goes-away-for-keeps tired of it.
None of these should give you the feeling you have any right to a different answer; none of these should leave you thinking “I should just push harder, she’ll let her guard down and admit her damage if I just say ‘really?’ skeptically enough.” I will tell you I might answer differently to “how’ve you been?” or “how’s life going?” or “how has that blighter bipolar been treating you today?” But I might not.
I have the right to be OK; you do not have the right to demand the laundry list of all the ways I’ve fucked up today. Talk with me: I’m an open kind of gal, and if I’m up to it and you’re open to it, odds are good you’ll eventually hear all about what’s been going on with me. But if we’ve just started talking, and you ask how I am? If you love me, if you purport to care about me at all, let me say I’m OK, and let that be enough for you.
Arwyn
In my bathroom hangs a plaque with a picture of a yin yang and the word BALANCE. I can never get it to hang straight. This probably says something deep and meaningful about my life.
This is ace. Being honest doesn’t mean having no privacy and being denied your coping mechanisms. It means having the option to share and advocate when you’ve got the time, energy and inclination. My reply to people who know I’m in a bad time is “OK, just now”, and if they don’t respect that answer, then they *really* don’t get to hear more.
Thank you for this. It covers the last year of my life in ways I’ve been unable to explain to those around me.
I know you. You’re me. Or rather, I will be you, some day.
Most days I’m well. Some days not so. I hope to one day come to the peace you have with your lot in life. And I’m slowly getting there, day by day, with the understanding and respect of those that do truly love me, or at the very least understand a part of what I go through.
You give us ALL hope. I hope we all do.
^_^
<3
“I have the right to be OK; you do not have the right to demand the laundry list of all the ways I’ve fucked up today. ”
I really like that. I need to remember that I have the right to not answer people’s questions.
Great post! It is great to read about someone who can be open and honest about who you are – thanks.
[...] Why I say I'm OK [...]
Just found this older post and as someone who has wrestled with her moods and their impact on her life since puberty, this post really hit home for me in many ways. Well, hit home and invited me to reflect on how I deal with my own moods and the people around me.
One of the big ways I end up using “okay” in dealing with my depression is in feeling guilty about accepting help. There are days when I’m very low and the darkness swirls fast and deep and I know that companionship, hugs and empathy will make me feel better, or at least less alone in the darkness which sometimes is the best I can hope for. But I feel guilty asking even my closest friends and family (who are the only ones I would even think about asking) to change their plans and alter their lives just to help me. In my mind, I’m ultimately “okay” in that I’m not afraid (anymore, thank the gods for that) of what I might do and so asking people to go out of their way seems inappropriate, selfish and “high maintenance”.
I’ll even sit on the phone with my partner, crying, worrying him and silently praying that he’ll come over while at the same time insisting that “no, I’m ‘okay’ I don’t need you to drop everything and drive over” or that “I’m okay and you shouldn’t have to come over”. I know in my heart of hearts that there are massive elements of sexist, ableist and other -ist forces at work telling me I shouldn’t be “sick” that I shouldn’t ask for help, that I should be able to manage and that I shouldn’t need “a man” to feel better (that last one kills me-it’s not about the man, it’s about the person, the friend, the warmth and kindness and compassion and yet, my own gendered roles clashing with my feminism lead me to even more guilt, blah!).
So yeah, while “okay” is sometimes helpful, such as when it’s a reminder that ultimately I am and will be okay and that the moods are just moods, that my life will go on and the light will return, it’s also a double edged sword that leaves me thinking I’m “not really sick” or that I “should” be able to manage on my own even when I know I need help and that there are wonderful loving people in my life who would be happy and willing to offer me the support I hate to ask for.
I guess the piece I’m still working on is to be “okay” with myself and make it “okay” to respect and support my limitations and needs.