Ah.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

How many times have we heard those two words?

 

How many times have we accepted the response and moved on?

Oh.

And how many times should we not have moved on?

 

So.

I have had this post in my draft folder since mid March. It just didnt seem done enough to post. Like it was missing something. And then the news about Junior Seau’s suicide came out yesterday. Not everyone will know Junior <a great USC football player and NFL linebacker> and that is okay … the point is he was 43. And successful. And his friends and family had no idea he had thoughts of suicide.

 

I am sure they all heard “I’m fine” numerous times.

 

Two things hit me hard when the story came out.

First. His mother <and please don’t get me started on who the idiot was who thought it would be a good idea to put a grieving mother in front of a microphone only hours after learning her son had died> saying “who would do this to my son?” It was not even in the realm of possibility in her grief stricken state to consider he was suicidal.

Second. An ex-teammate holding back tears onscreen describing how Junior would get injury treatment in private so his teammates never saw him ‘less than.’ And how that same teammate broke down admitting he never thought that would translate the same way into personal life … and the pain in his voice when he said “if only he had told us … any of us would have been there for him.”

 

<note: I am not sure anything is a stronger reminder of how suicide impacts anyone and everyone than watching a massive man who has singlehandedly destroyed other very large strong men on the football field sob over the helplessness of not being able to do anything … or being given the chance to do something>

 

Look.

We should not be fooled into thinking this is just about sports concussions or athletes who struggle with life after sports. Yes. These men are well oiled competitive sports machines who are ‘wired’ to be that way. But. We would be foolish to not believe that there are also well oiled competitive life machines.

 

People who go through life … well … just fine <thank you very much>.

They look smooth and seamless in life. They take bumps and bruises from life in stride and inevitably shrug them off and keep on playing the game of life at a highly competitive level.

 

Ah.

 

But. (Yeah there is a but).

 

Behind closed doors.

I go back to the two things that struck me the most in the Junior Seau aftermath.

 

Mother. Disbelief “who would do this to my son” (never crossing her mind it could be suicide). Athlete friend. He always took treatment in private so that in front of us he was always the best he could be.

 

And that same friend saying that no one would have hesitated to be there … if he had let them in.

 

Well oiled Life machine people are always “fine.”

 

“I’m fine” is one of those evasive phrases we use when we have no intention of elaborating.

 

Ok.

 

Maybe think about it this way.

 

“I’m fine” may be the single most common lie.

 

You know what I mean.

Someone asks “how are you?” and you say “I’m fine.”

 

And you aren’t.

 

It sucks at that moment. And maybe not normal sucking … maybe some big time sucking at the moment.

It happens. Just as Life happens.

And because you are a ‘well oiled life machine’ you know people see you as ‘fine’ so … you use the words to confirm it.

 

Some thoughts.

 

What do we do when “I’m fine” is simply camouflage for some private and intensely personal material that because we never <or very rarely share> is next to impossible to say out loud?

First.

Think about the material that is really ‘not fine.’ And maybe redefine it in your head so that you can actually get to ‘second.’

 

Second.

This is the easy answer <for me to say> … talk. Speak. Say something.

 

Simply say “well … not fine.”

 

I say that and I purposefully put <for me to say> because I could just as easily have put ‘this is the hard part <for me to do>.’ And I honestly believe I am not that different with regard to this as others.

 

The simple act of talking can be incredibly important … and incredibly difficult. Talking openly about emotions and feelings is a good thing … and incredibly difficult. Issues should not go unnoticed … and is incredibly difficult to be noticed for something like this.

Hmmmmm …. incredibly difficult.

So what do we do? <the truth> … we would rather lie.

 

This ordi­nary lie is in every­day life.

 

And just as lying, in general, is not a good thing in this case … if you are not paying attention … really paying attention … this lie … unattended … will keep the indi­vid­ual from chang­ing for the bet­ter … and actually will keep the person from being fine at some point … and, at its worst, will reach a Junior Seau level.

 

Ok.

 

“I am fine.”

This may not be a lie for you … but <this I guarantee … unequivocally guarantee> someone within the next week who says “I’m fine” is not.

 

Because I don’t think that most peo­ple are “fine” most of the time.

 

Most of us have prob­lems.

And many of us have seri­ous prob­lems … phys­i­cal ill­nesses, addic­tions, emo­tional strug­gles, marriage stuff, real finan­cial difficulties, inordinate job stress, and par­ent­ing chal­lenges … or any number of real Life issues that can keep us up at night.

 

That’s life.

 

It is not whining … nor ‘weak’ … we have all faced some of these prob­lems in life and when we do … we are not ‘fine’.

 

We are … well … just ‘dealing.’ Or maybe just coping.

 

But that is not fine.

 

Not fine is being con­fused, sad, hurt, scared, lonely, angry, lost. All of which different people deal with differently <and obviously everyone has a different capacity for ‘not fine’ stuff> but dealing well or not dealing with … it is all in the “I am not fine” category.

 

This is tough stuff.

This is personal stuff.

And for most people it’s not easy to be hon­est and truth­ful about our trou­bles. It is part self reflection struggle and part ‘strength of character’ struggle <makes me look weak>.

 

But I believe more people need to be honest. Because I honestly believe it is the only way to get the help to get bet­ter.

 

But that’s me.

Many peo­ple would rather just answer “I’m fine.”

 

Too embar­rassed to share their prob­lems, maybe even to them­selves, they lie.

Lying to themselves.

Lying to someone else.

Doesn’t matter.

It’s a lie.

 

And within the lie they get, and remain, trapped.

 

Trapped in situations that often go from bad to worse.

And worse leads to the worst <which in most minds is ‘unsolvable>. That, my friends, is the slippery slope of this lie.

 

If you’re anx­ious and wor­ried all of the time, you’re not fine.

If you’re stressed and angry all the time you’re not fine.

If you’re fight­ing with your spouse/parents all the time, you’re not fine.

If you’re drift­ing through life with­out a pur­pose, you’re not fine.

 

But <here’s the good news>.

 

It’s okay not to be fine.

It’s okay to talk about it.

It’s okay to acknowledge that your mind can have issues just like any part of your body.

 

Acceptance is half the battle in my opinion.

 

Everyone has their weak spots.The one thing that despite your best efforts, will always bring you to your knees, regardless of how strong you are otherwise.
-Sarah Dessen

 

 

However, in my experience, even the smartest strongest people fall short of accepting anything other than “I’m fine” even when confronted with glaring in-the-face facts about illogical and irrational behavior. Those well oiled Life machines cannot envision not being well oiled.

To them it is all or nothing with very very little inbetween.

 

Anyway.

 

Why did I write this?

 

Well.

 

Because I like writing about the truth.

 

Because Junior Seau, a 43 year old man, who to his friends was “fine” committed suicide.

 

Because I was also just reading about some really jarring truth in Amanda Beard’s memoir. A young woman who has, what, 7 Olympic gold medals? Posed for magazines?

Yet … Beard kept her physical and emotional turmoil <including cutting, bulimia, depression, massive anxiety> all hidden behind a beautiful smile and an incredible athletic talent. She revealed little, if nothing, to her family, friends and coaches.

 

I envision they both had mastered the art of “I’m fine” responses.

 

That kind of truth behind an ‘I’m fine’ is unsettling.

 

But possibly it is only truth that can finally set you free from the ‘not fine’ category.

 

Oh.

 

Because I want to just remind everyone. Receivers, and ignore-ers, of “I’m fine” are just as culpable in this lie. We sometimes just aren’t paying attention <for good and bad reasons … you judge yourself … I cannot>.

 

So.

 

Pay attention.

 

Sometimes “I’m fine” is truly a lie.

 

And someone needs help.

 

And sometimes those who need the help the most just do not know how to ask for it.

And you know what?

 

They really aren’t asking for help … they are simply asking for hope.

 

And anyone one of us is qualified to give that.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Written by Bruce