What I mean when I say 'I'm Fine'

“How are you?”

“Oh yeah, I’m good, thank you. I’m doing just fine.”

A common, every day exchange between two people. It may be someone you know well, or someone you’ve just met. Telling people you’re ‘fine’ is so common nowadays that I don’t think any of us know what it really means.

Whenever people ask me how I am, there is a lot that happens in my mind.

How honest should I be today? If I did answer that question honestly, can I talk about it openly without crying (usually no)? Would they understand, or even care? Can I actually put into words how I’m feeling right now? How bad am I actually feeling, relative to other days? If they asked me this yesterday, would I have felt worse than now? What about tomorrow? Will I still feel like this next time they ask me? Will they get sick of hearing how I really feel?

This is where ‘I’m fine’ comes in super handy. Fine is average, not necessarily bad but not great. You can kind of infer what you want from it. And you can imply a lot from the tone you use when saying it.

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But what does it really mean when I say I’m fine?

Simply put, fine never actually means fine. It generally means ‘I feel like crap but either can’t explain, or don’t want to explain why’.

Fine means ‘I’ve lived with a chronic illness for nearly 10 years and my pain keeps getting worse not better’.

It means ‘I slept twelve hours yesterday and still feel like I haven’t rested enough. I’d very much like to lie down now please.’

Or ‘I have a constant ache in all of my muscles that won’t go away, despite the fact that I barely move any of them’.

Or even ‘I should really just be in bed right now, instead of being here talking to you’.

When you live with a chronic illness, daily life is a battle between what you CAN do and what you NEED to do. It doesn’t even take into account the things that you WANT to do. It’s dealing with chronic pain that can’t be treated with pain killers, and has no identifiable cause. It’s fighting with your own body just to live a fraction of a ‘normal’ life.

But when people ask you how you are, all you can think to say is ‘I’m fine thanks, how are you?’

Why not tell people how you’re really feeling?

There are so many reasons not to reveal how you are really feeling when people ask how you are. My personal reasons are below but if you can think of any more feel free to pop them in the comments!

I can’t put it into words

It’s really hard to explain the pain and discomfort that comes with chronic illness to someone who hasn’t experienced it. It’s unlike anything else.

I know I have many people in my life who do care, and if I told them how I am really feeling they would empathise. But they wouldn’t ever fully understand, because they haven’t been through it.

I’ve tried many times, through my blog and through conversations with people who are really interested in learning more about it, but I don’t think this even scratches the surface. So, for ease, I just don’t try to put it into words. Because I can’t.

I tell them I’m fine and we can all move on to the next topic of conversation.

I worry about talking about it too much, and people getting sick of it

The last thing I want to be known as is the girl who never stops talking about her chronic illness. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing that, because it is a daily battle. I have both a blog and a substack dedicated to the topic, so I do talk about it a lot.

But I just don’t want every conversation I have to revolve around that. And I certainly don’t want to only be known for that amongst my friends.

I also worry that people won’t want to invite me to things, because they are concerned about my energy levels. Yes, I know, I am very good at consistently doing too much, so maybe this wouldn’t be a bad thing. No one wants to be forgotten about though, or left out.

I want to put on the face of a normal human being as much as I can. So I tell people I am fine.

I can’t talk about it without getting emotional

This is a HUGE one for me.

I am so emotional as a person. I cry so easily – I have never made it through a wedding or a funeral without crying, even if I barely know the people involved. I watch the same TV shows over and over and still cry at the exact same points every single time. I am such an empath that I only have to think about what someone else is going through to start crying as if it is happening to me. (Trust me, I wish I wasn’t this way, it’s very embarassing. I cry too often for one human being).

You can imagine then, that when it comes to thinking about and talking about my own struggles, it is nearly impossible to do so without getting upset and crying.

Some days I’m okay, talking in a factual way and not getting too deep into things. Maybe on those days I’ll be a bit more honest. When I am at my most energy lacking, even the thought of sharing something like that brings up the tears.

I don’t want to be the person always crying in public places, or at work, or at parties. So, I tell them I am fine, and try to enjoy myself.

I just don’t have the energy.

And finally, there are some days when I am just too exhausted to answer the question honestly.

I don’t have the energy to find the words, to try and explain, or to answer follow up questions. In fact, the most I am ever able to tell them is ‘I’m tired’ – but as we know that word doesn’t even come close to describing how it feels to live with a chronic illness.

Even typing this out now I am struggling to find the words to describe how I am feeling, so overcome with fatigue that typing has become difficult. It takes a lot of hard work to just exist. Having an honest conversation about how I’m feeling is very low on my list of priorities.