The Art of Not Being Okay

Photo by Niklas Garnholz on Unsplash

I.

You will find the truth in an empty car parking lot. The tears will go away as quickly as they come. You will dig your hands into an old wound, ready for the mess and the pain. Instead, you will come up empty-handed and you will feel nothing. You will wish you were drunk so you don’t have to remember. But you will be sober and you will remember how he looked you in the eyes when he lied. That ought to make you feel something but all you will feel is numb.

This numbness will take over your body for days to come until you accidentally spill boiling water on your finger one day. It will hurt like hell but in the first few seconds, you will stare at your trembling finger and think, finally you can feel again. But please remember. You do not need the pain to realize you are capable of feeling.

II.

You will look for the right moment to admit you are not okay. But you will realize there will never be a moment when you do not feel vulnerable or uncertain. There will only be moments with people who make you feel safe enough to confess that you may not be okay.

The first time, you will wait until all the lights are turned off in the room and it’s a little too late in the night to say out loud to someone that you are tired. You will ask questions and they will not have the answers but you will find their presence comforting. You will repeat the gentle reminder “Don’t worry. Be happy.” in your head until it lulls you to sleep.

The second time, you will hear the question, “How are you feeling?” and find yourself at a loss. You will settle for a simple word that cannot do justice to the complex web of emotions you carry inside. But “angry” will be a good start. “Angry” is you reaching out to someone. It’s you telling them, “Thank you for caring. It’s a difficult question but this is me trying.”

In the middle of a crowded room, someone will quietly ask, “Are you okay?” And you will not pretend to be something you are not. You will not care that it was neither the space nor the time to have a heart-to-heart conversation. You will simply reply, “No, I’m not,” without the need to add, “but I’ll be fine”. And in those few stolen moments out of a chaotic day, you will let yourself be comforted by someone who is willing to listen.

III.

There will be a night when you sit by the riverbank and throw stones into the water aimlessly. You will sink your feet into cold water and sing along to love songs. As time melts away slowly in the summer heat, some people will leave and some will stay.

You will remember feeling happy, exhausted and a little bit tipsy when suddenly, beyond the river and up in the mountains, a local train passes by, its windows lit up in white fluorescent light. It will look as if it were flying, a magical train secretly taking off into the night. It will pass by quickly and you will be left to wonder whether you had imagined it all along.

You will recall the midnight train that came from nowhere and you will think the universe may have reached out that night to remind you, “This too shall pass.”

Later, you will sit down to write about that summer night. When you write, you will focus on what was gentle and beautiful and kind. And you will realize that you are still an amateur learning the art of not being okay but you are slowly getting better at it.