Who I Am When I’m Not OK
I Am Not OK, and That’s OK
This support group theme from a few months ago hit home recently in a way I didn’t quite expect. “What am I if I am not OK?” That question doesn’t just live in the intellectual space for me; it lives in my bones. It’s a question I’ve wrestled with throughout my journey as a mom, especially in the years of navigating my son’s mental health and substance use struggles, and today as we revisit challenges and hardships.
I can’t count how many times I’ve bumped into someone from my past – at the grocery store, a school event, or a community gathering – and braced myself for the inevitable question: “How are you?” or worse, “How is he?” Sometimes they knew our story; sometimes they didn’t. But either way, I felt that pressure to perform “OK.”
“We’re OK,” I’d say, with a tight smile and a heart full of ache.
But the truth? I wasn’t OK. And I’m not always OK now, either. And that’s what this post is really about.
The Lie of OK
In our culture, “OK” is currency. It’s the passcode for acceptance. It’s the socially acceptable way to keep things light, to spare others the discomfort of our truth. And yet, every time I’ve said it while falling apart inside, I’ve felt more alone.
So what happens when we drop the mask and let ourselves be not OK?
For me, it’s a messy, brave, and incredibly human process.
Choosing Something Else
I recently shared a poem in our group that offered such a gentle reframe:
I am not OK, But I am many worthy things.
That line brought tears to my eyes. Because yes – even when I am not OK, I can still be gentle. I can still be present. I can still offer love. I can still connect, even in the brokenness.
Learning to accept that truth has been a slow unraveling for me. I’ve had to unlearn the myth that strength means having it all together. I’ve had to recognize that my own healing doesn’t hinge on my son’s progress. That his story is his. And mine is mine.
What I’m Practicing Instead of OK
These days, I’m trying to answer the question “How are you?” with more honesty. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who truly see me. And when I’m not OK, here are some things I remind myself I can be:
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Gentle: I speak to myself as I would to a hurting friend.
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Unashamed: I let go of the story that says my worth is tied to my family’s struggles.
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Connected: I reach out, even when I want to hide.
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Still: I sit with the discomfort instead of rushing to fix it.
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Aware: I name what I feel, and I try to stay curious about it.
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Empathetic: I let my own pain deepen my compassion for others.
For Anyone Else Who’s Not OK
If you’re walking through something heavy, I want you to know you’re not alone. You don’t have to wear the mask of “OK” if it doesn’t fit. You can be honest. You can be real. And you are still enough.
Let’s give ourselves permission to show up messy. To say “This is hard,” and mean it. To trust that not being OK is not a failure – it’s an invitation to treat ourselves with a little more tenderness.
You are not OK. And you are still so many worthy things.
With presence, permission, and gentleness,
Lisa
Wearing the “I’m ok” mask can feel very lonely and isolating. It’s been difficult for me to be more honest with my answer as I feel it can make people uncomfortable or put them in a position of not knowing how to respond. I am trying to give myself permission to be authentic when I’m asked that question but I have also sought out support groups so I can be part of a community that understands what I’m going through and won’t shy away from my honest answers.
Thank you for sharing that Melanie. I completely understand the lack of knowing how to respond from others. One thing that I try to do is asses people’s emotional safety to myself and offer varying degrees of my authenticity. This way, I am not disappointed in their responses – or lack of.