Okay, already

I swore that I would slap the next person who asked me how I was with “Only OK?” when that was my answer to their perfunctory question when I know they don’t give a rat’s ass about how I really am.

My eyes were swollen, watering and itchy from cedar pollen. I was well on the way to put my body weight in mucus through my nose even though I’d only been awake a few hours.

I told her it wasn’t a banner day for me.

I didn’t slap her, partly because she didn’t use that annoying sing-song tone that indicates a mindless cheeriness that I suspect they don’t even really believe, and partly because I didn’t want to lose my job.

I don’t wear my heart (or my allergies) on my sleeve (unless I sneeze unexpectedly and leave nose-goo everywhere). Nor do act like I feel well when I don’t. Most of my days are neither fabulous nor horrible. Most people’s aren’t, I suspect. They’re just days.

“Okay” is infinitely better than “life sucks” or “please excuse me while I go slit my wrists”.

Every day is a gift from God, whether it’s a good day or a bad one or an average one, I realize. And since God doesn’t seem to mind me being “just okay”, why the hell does anyone care?

Most likely, because they don’t really. “Okay” seems to threaten their warped concept of the universe where every day that’s not a festival is a total loss.

I know about loss, and “okay” is good enough. Or should be. I guess I could tell them that no one I know died today and that I have enough money to pay my bills, but that doesn’t rise to level of spectacular. It’s okay, and nothing more.

I had a really great day watching the inauguration on Tuesday. But since I was at home instead of work, no one got to ask me if I was having a great day. I told them that I’d had a great long weekend, but apparently I should still be having the same kind of day today that I had then.

They haven’t taken care of the stuff I have since I got back to the office on Wednesday. Deadlines and problems catching up. I still have things in my in box that have been there for months but that I still haven’t had time to get to.

So I refuse to participate in their delusional, self-induced pep rallies. Things are not “all good”, nor have they ever been. I have more important things to concentrate on than pretending that they are. In fact, the next person that says “it’s all good” gets a slap, too.
The people I work with largely think I’m a cynic, but I’m not. I have hope and faith that surpasses even my own understanding. I don’t really where it comes from, unless it’s from God.

When all else fails, claim divine guidance.

“Okay” is good, and if you don’t really care, don’t ask. Harass someone else. Just leave me the hell alone in my okay-ness. I’m happy there.

It’s a comfortable place to be.