Every day, several times a day, my husband asks me how I’m doing.
I always say, “Alright.” I am doing alright.
Sometimes I am better than alright but I stick with alright. Sometimes I’m worse than alright but lie.
You are who you pretend to be.
When I ask my husband how he is doing, how he feels, say, first thing in the morning when I hand him a cup of coffee, he always says, “Good!”
“You’re saying that because you’re worried about my mental health.”
He admitted that was true several days ago but he keeps saying it. When he says it, he is uncommonly bright and cheerful but it doesn’t seem fake to me, this hearing what I want to hear. It feels like the truth.
So I take it as the truth and don’t look any further.
I am alright and he is good.