Last week, someone hacked my Facebook account. My clever friends knew not to answer the strange messages, which read, “Hello: How you doin?” as if a non-English speaker had been watching too many episodes of “Friends.” By the time we all reported the hacker, they had moved on.
Still, the message prompted a couple of thoughts. We ask each other how we’re doing all the time. But what is it we really want to know? Or rather, how much do we want to know?
Let’s face it; the question comes with built-in, often invisible boundaries. It’s a little bit more than “hello” or a passing nod. But how much more?
The short answer is context. When you ask, are you checking in after a specific event, i.e., your neighbor just had a baby, or your friend was in a fender-bender? Are you passing the time of day? Are you inquiring about someone you know well, know in passing, don’t know at all, or haven’t seen for a while? Do you expect an answer? Are you prepared for one?
I sometimes ask people how they’re doing. Not just to be polite: I ask people I care about, people who seem distressed, or people with whom I’d like to have a conversation. I don’t pose the question casually these days. Maybe because I’m aware that quite a few people are struggling with how they’re doing. We seem to be simultaneously starved for companionship and leery of anyone’s judgement. Most of us are feeling a lack. Plenty of us are anxious or grieving.
I’m especially sensitive to that idea when 9/11 swings around. This time of year, the question of how I’m doing comes back at me. Twenty years is a big anniversary for those of us whose personal loss combined with a national period of mourning. Nevertheless, between the passage of time and the many other momentous occasions we’ve collectively experienced, people will forget to ask during this week.
That’s fine with me. I’ve long ago relinquished the idea that my pain is lesser or greater than that of anyone else. The loss of my beloved husband in a terrorist attack will always be a major loss in my life. But other events large and small have also caused injury. My struggles with the older version of my body. My sister’s recent death. The level of misinformation and disinformation lodging itself into the cultural conversation. The rising hate and fear-fueled division. My own anxiety concerning current events and yes, my own resentment at how hard I have to work—how hard we all have to work—to see the good in the world.
But maybe the work is the point. Maybe having to be so damned resilient is how we become better people. Overcoming loneliness or depression or distress, looking out instead of in, facing the unknown, forcing ourselves out of our comfort zones even if the pandemic and the increasing number of weather events keeps us physically in place for a time. Insisting on hope, even in small doses.
So, to those of you who have written or texted or posted or called to or to ask how I’m doing or to tell me you are thinking of me: I’m doing better than okay, and I’m thinking of all of you as well.
You might also be interested:
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/08/nyregion/9-11-new-york-remember.html
This is the winter of our discontent.
It’s that time of year when some of us feel compelled to put forth our version of an inspirational message. In times past, I’ve been inspired by both baser and higher impulses. I’ve written about gratitude on more than one occasion, although, truth be told, I find the collective impulse to remind ourselves and everyone else to be grateful to be a little, well, grating. Most of the people I know are well aware of what they have; it doesn’t mean they can or should ignore what they—what we all—might be missing.
“I choose hope, at least in small doses. I choose to assign myself a purpose, and embrace the journey that leads to the fulfillment of that purpose. I acknowledge the risk of stumbling along the way, of never completely accomplishing what I set out to do, or of discovering that I inadvertently changed course. I accept as a working theory that humans live their best lives when they ascribe meaning to their lives. I take as a matter of faith that it is within each of us to live meaningful lives, to love, to interact, to connect in fellowship; and that how long our reach, or wide our influence, is far less important than the path we set for ourselves. I realize I will always feel some disappointment and may come to conclusions and discoveries late in life that I wish I’d reached earlier. But so what? That only means I’ve been growing and learning. It also means I’m human…and being fully, completely human is always going to be my most important accomplishment.