I'm fine

"Don't worry, I'm fine", "It's all good, don't worry I'm fine", "I'm fine, I'll just talk later" are some of the variations of perhaps one of the biggest lies we tell family, friends, loved ones and ourselves. No matter how honest a person, this is definitely a lie we tell everybody. We spoon-feed ourselves this very lie in order to dodge the ugliness of our emotions, the pain we might want to spill out by screaming, or the curveballs life throws at us. We tell ourselves "I'm fine" in order to numb the otherwise overwhelming pain we are undergoing. "I'm fine" is the bandage used to cover an open gash that's spilling blood in hopes that the wound will cauterise on its own. What this bandage actually accomplishes is leaving us even more damaged than before because we never truly allowed the wound to heal. We allowed it to fester, grow in our mind and create deep rooted issues that live with us until we truly ever face our fears and grief head on. But as a combination of social taboo, culturally enforced repression of emotions, refusal to acknowledge mental health, lack of an emotional support system and a myriad of other reasons we keep these feelings repressed. Slap ourselves up in the morning, try not looking at ourselves in the mirror out of fear of facing ourselves and just sing "I'm fine" like a mantra and move on with life.

This rather brilliant concoction of toxicity is perhaps the reason why I eventually had multiple emotional breakdowns. Because every time emotions became too overwhelming and I needed support, I just broke down and due to the lack of acknowledgement of mental health that persisted at the time, I just "I'm fine"'d myself and moved on.

Even though multiple times said breakdown led me to rather dark thoughts, ranging from self-inflicting pain to suicide, I just tried my best to "I'm fine" myself out of that vicious cycle. I was amongst the lucky ones who was able to confide in multiple people during each breakdown and that was the reason why I was able to finally get myself mental help. But it horrifies me to imagine the condition of those who aren't nearly as lucky. Despite the support system I had, I found it incredibly hard to confide in people because somewhere I felt ashamed for how I was feeling. I felt small. Today I know that feeling is not unique. Grief has a way of cocooning you in darkness and with every additional thread spun of that cocoon it becomes harder and harder to see the light. Grief alienates you from loved ones who care and want to help, which is what makes this an incredibly tricky situation.

My biggest fear would always be that I'd be a burden on said person. May it be a friend, parent, sibling, what not. The hesitance came because "what if they don't understand me?", "what if they ask me to just grow up and that life sucks?", "what if they think I'm a crybaby". These are just a few. Don't get me wrong, quite a few times one of these questions could unfortunately return a "yes" but many times these are just inhibitions that your mind has built like a wall around you preventing you from opening up.

I've spent days crying during some of my tough moments where I've distanced myself from friends because I don't want them to see me when I'm vulnerable. This is despite me knowing they won't judge me. This is despite me knowing I'll get all the support I'll need, free of judgement. Although it does become tricky when dealing with parents because crying in front of them weakens them, makes them feel powerless. But what is key to facing griefs or any mental challenge is asking for help. Do yourself and your loved ones a favour by confiding in them. Cry, bawl, scream it out. At the end it's built-up pain, agony and vitriol in your system that festers like a cancer, which kills you from the inside with every passing day. Crying and confiding in others can be extremely cathartic and self-validating. Validation is something we all seek, that's human. That is especially true when it comes to mental trauma and grief. Somewhere you seek validation, you want to know that what you are feeling deserves attention and care and that you are not in over your head. You want to know that others can understand your pain.

By no means have I faced all of my griefs head on or conquered my mental health issues. By no means am I now free of inhibitions. I still have coping mechanisms, some healthy (like me writing) and some unhealthy (binge eating, doom scrolling, binge watching shows, skipping hobbies, workout, the list goes on). But where I am in a better place is that I know now how to recognize these signals. I know how to second guess when my mind is starting to spiral down that staircase and I am learning how to be kind to myself. Which is pretty much the advice I could give anybody facing any grief or mental trauma.

Be kind to yourself. Just like your body needs time to heal from physical wounds, your mind needs time to process and recover from any mental trauma. It too has wounds that run deep, and "I'm fine" is not the solution. Confide in at least a few loved ones, let your feelings out. Write if that helps, as I've discovered for myself. Get your thoughts out, good and bad. Spill them out instead of letting them build pressure inside.

Until then, try your best to reduce "I'm fine" treatment from your life. Take the lone time needed, there's no need to lie to others or yourself about your mental state. Take those deep breaths, maybe eat some junk. Tread the line between spiralling out of control and being kind to yourself. You will, in time, be fine.