You’re probably wondering where I disappeared to in the last couple of days…weeks. Let’s just say a lot is going on with me. Although… ‘a lot’ might be putting it quite nicely.
I read a poem by another blogger just now that triggered something in me, something I couldn’t procrastinate about writing a response to. You know how sometimes, when we’re scrolling through the blogs and stuff like that we stumble upon something that fits exactly how we feel? This is exactly like that.
This is a post about being okay, and what that means to me.
A while ago I started to realise that the older we get, the more we experience the world, the more we come to this point of just being okay. And it’s hardly ever a good thing. Okay is like the politically correct thing to say because the world would have us believe that we are supposed to be thriving, but we know that we really, really aren’t.
It’s become so bad that the expectation is just prompted by the question “Are you okay?”. Like if all we can really be is okay. Like if each of us realises that everyone else is suffering in some way that they deem to be crippling. We all see that the world is taking its toll on people, and we accept this “okayness” because at the very least our misery has company.
If you want to take a look at the idea that sparked this particular conversation, check out Ailish Fowler’s Are You Okay?.
When people ask how we are, we automatically default to say “I’m okay”. Or at least I do. But okay is such an empty promise. Like we’re only alive because our hearts are beating. Lik we’re only surviving because we’re breathing still. Everybody’s dying, but no one is living.
We carry around the word ‘okay’ like pocket-sized depression without even realising it.
We get tired of fighting and keeping up the pretense, of saying we’re okay and motivating ourselves to be okay when all we want to do is step away from the stress of our daily life and give up for a while.
Are you happy?
Is the answer to that question the same as the answers to questions about how you’re feeling?
We’re okay. We are escapists – running from the truth that we are not happy, we are not well, and we are most definitely not okay. Even the prize-fighters get knocked out at some time. And why do we tell this lie to ourselves, our social circles and the entire world? Why do we try to convince ourselves that above all the forces trying to undermine our self-discovery and success that we are just fine? I don’t know. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s something else.
I’m not okay. The truth will set me free. Because all those cliches we hate to hear because they’ve been repeated more times that we’ve inhaled and exhaled in our lifetimes might be onto something. The first step to finding the solution to the problem is admitting you have one.
I’m not okay.
I’m not happy.
But let’s cut ourselves some slack.
I wrote this essay called The Crucible once and up until now I’ve kept it mostly to myself. Everytime I’m stuck in a rut and feel like I’m suffocating I read it to remind myself where I came from, and how much I’ve accomplished. I realise that I don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s exhausting and barely rewarding. So I will share with you a piece of myself, and hope it helps you as much as it helps me.
Your crucible is your make or break. It’s the place you won’t get away from unless you keep fighting. It’s the place that can’t get enough of you. The place it’s up to you alone to escape… The crucible is no joke. But honey, you laugh your broken laughs. Smile your broken smiles. Think your broken thoughts. And never give in to the crucible.
Never let it chew you up and spit you out in scattered, unrecognizable fragments. Never let it scar you with your own hands. Make it call you a survivor. And never forget it. Make it empower you in your newness. Attach it to your heart and gain life from it – don’t let your crucible be a vampire. Make it inspire. They say it’s going to get worse before it gets better. But it’s up to you how much and how fast “better” is.
We’re not okay now. We’re not happy.
But you can bet your ass we’re going to be.
P.S if you would like to read the entire essay, leave a comment down below and I’ll dedicate a post to it.