I Lied

I lied. When the bank teller spoke to me through the video screen at the drive through, he asked me how I was doing. I told him I was fine.

I am not fine. And responding that way today made me recoil a little. I usually answer honestly, appropriately depending on who is asking, but I do say how I am feeling.

Edmond used to tell me that I would be his ideal juror. He could read what I thought and felt all over my face. I am sure my lie was a relief to the young man behind the screen making my deposit. People see what they want to see, what they allow themselves to see. Seeing other’s pain, really seeing it means feeling it with them, touching into a pain of their own even. Many people do not actually want to know how we are doing, especially if it is less than fine. If they allow themselves to know, they will have to feel it too or feel uncomfortable in some way.

I am grateful that those who surround me do want to know, and can feel it with me. I am grateful to hear about how this loss aches in their heart, and what other pain arises because of Edmond’s death. There are painful memories because of the bittersweet knowing that is what we have left. The pain of knowing plans that will not come to be hurt. Together, as we open our hearts to this rawness, we experience the regrets of the past that is not enough and the anxiety of the future unknown.

Last Halloween, we had a gathering of families at our home. I am not much of a costume person, but I ordered a sweat shirt that made me laugh. The shirt has an image of knife stabbing into a heart with the quote “I’m fine” on the chest. Yeah, I know, I have a dark sense of humor, but sometimes all we can do is laugh at our own cultural conditioning. Humans are such interesting creatures, finding the strangest coping mechanisms.

As a grief and loss counselor, the “I’m fine” is such a symptom of our cultural fear of feeling hard things, trying to fix it, and resisting the dark emotions. The sweat shirt arrived a day late, which was even more hilarious to me. So, I decided to wear it anyway, and still wear it around the house or when it is a little chilly out.

I could have answered the bank teller’s question any number of ways: heartbroken, exhausted, bewildered, overwhelmed, anguished, sad, shocked, left-behind, cheated, lonely, or grief stricken. I am not fine.