How Are You, Really?

From my practice, written with AI assistance. The direction and the final say on every word are my own.

People say we're easy to be with. Good company, a good listener. Someone asks how we really are, and "fine" is out before we've thought. A hug goes on a moment too long, and something in us tightens. We want people near. When they come near, we're already a step back. Alone, even with them.

For some of us it runs the other way. We give a lot, fast. Then any misstep feels like it could end everything, and we're watching for it. Pulling away and giving too much can be the same want, and the same fear.

Something in us stands guard, and we bring a version. Enough to feel connected, without sharing what would actually connect us. It works, mostly. Sometimes it's caution dressed up as closeness. And it's lonely.

The guard isn't the problem. It's ours, however we feel about it. It's there for good reason, and it's often right. Open isn't always good, and closed isn't always bad. Not every person is safe for all of us. The guard reads who is there, and decides how much. It's a friend, our right hand.

What it does can cost us. Sometimes it's still reading who was there, not who is. Kept up with everyone, it keeps out the people we'd want in. Or we go from naive to guarded, and back, skipping the middle, where we might give a little and see what comes back.

When someone brings this to me, there's a guard, and at first it stands between us. I don't ask it to move. I show what I can: warmth, attention, openness and care, in a way unique to them, in that moment. And I give it time, because a guard needs time to warm up. Then, at its own pace, things loosen and open between us. The guard hasn't gone. It's beside them now, still there and still theirs.

That's the middle, as open as possible and as closed as needed. With the right person, and time, the guard can move beside us too, and an unfinished thought gets said. An early draft, before we've tidied it. A possible meaning, ventured. Sometimes it lands. Sometimes it doesn't. If the other person comes back to what was said, and we stay, the guard learns something new. Safety is found, and trusted enough, in that moment.

And for those of us who give too much, too fast, giving can become a want, not a need. Either way, we take ourselves with us, rather than leaving ourselves outside.

So next time someone asks how we really are, there might be a moment before "fine". Not everything. A little more than before.

Part of However We Feel: short pieces on what brings people to therapy.