“How are you?”
We’re all familiar with that query. It’s one of the most ubiquitous greetings in the world, exchanged innumerable times throughout the English-speaking world each day by friends, coworkers, family members and strangers alike. This quick phrase is remarkably versatile—you can say it as a barista serving a customer you met five seconds ago, or you can say it to your significant other because you really want to know what’s happening in their life.
Prevailing social conventions have turned what could be a caring question into an awfully trite one, because people don’t often answer the question candidly.
When someone asks me how I am—no matter who they are—I try not to say “I’m well” unless that’s actually the case. When I’m having a mediocre day, I’ll indicate as much. When I’m struggling, I’ll admit to it. My friends know that when I tell them, “I’m fine,” that’s a step down from “everything
is awesome!”
Lots of people are different in this regard. For them, “How are you?” triggers some variation of “good” that seems to come out of their mouths as naturally as a knee-jerk reflex—regardless of how they’re actually faring in life.
Along similar lines: when I mention I’m going through a rough patch, I occasionally get an odd look or an awkward reply. It’s as if the person asking about my day was expecting (or perhaps desiring) the standard answer of “I’m good, how are you?” which rendered them unprepared for honesty.
This type of insincerity is commonplace and detrimental to our relationships with one another. It normalizes avoiding genuine and worthwhile interactions because they require us to go out of our way.
How are you…really?
You might have read my column from last May, titled: “Your opinion doesn’t matter.” In it, I argue we all tend to treat our own viewpoints as authoritative, which hinders us from true growth. After all, it is much easier to live in an echo chamber surrounded by yes-men than to seriously reconsider your beliefs.
I would posit a similar underlying impulse is at play here. It is easy to limit most of our social encounters to the superficial, having a few brief “how are you?” moments before proceeding with our lives. It is much less convenient to hear another human admit to being unwell, let alone to ask about what’s going on.
Of course, we shouldn’t just begin ranting every time somebody greets us. Behaving genuinely doesn’t equate to jettisoning our troubles in another’s lap without regard for the situation at hand or whether that person asked for a play-by-play of our frustrations.
Nor are we obligated to be a best friend or therapist to everyone who crosses our paths. Each of us has only so much time and bandwidth to invest in others, and there will always be people we’re unable to build deep connections with.
Even so, maybe we should reconsider choosing insincerity as our default modus operandi. Being disingenuous about the small stuff can lead to other unhealthy behaviours—for instance, gossiping behind someone’s back rather than confronting them directly about an issue. Our everyday habits define how we act in the face of major or unexpected developments.
Others also won’t be able to help you if you keep everything bottled up inside.
Case in point: the other day, an acquaintance of mine at the local CrossFit gym (let’s refer to her as “C”) asked me how I was doing. I’d been feeling down because of some personal disappointments, and I could easily have withheld them. C and I have only known each other a brief time, so why should I trust her with any element of my personal life?
Instead, I told C about some of what happened and was taken aback by how much she cared. Her words of encouragement meant a lot to me.
What you reap is what you sow, and no relationship of any kind can thrive without effort from both parties.
There’s no formula for human interaction, and I’m not trying to deputize myself as some kind of guru in that department. Yet I think we’d all benefit from being authentic with each other, so long as we do it wisely and appropriately.
