Becoming Mo

“How are you?”

“How are you doing?”

For some reason, when someone I’m close to asks me these questions, I sometimes stop in my tracks. My brain gets to work, trying to figure out how to respond.

I’m still trying to understand why those four, sometimes three, words have such an effect on me.

“Fine” is my automatic response to a colleague, a neighbour, or a random acquaintance. It’s simple, familiar, and usually enough.

But when it’s someone close to me, things get a little complicated.

Can I get away with saying “fine,” despite how I sound? Have they noticed something in my voice? Is this a safe moment to be vulnerable with this person? Are they genuinely asking, or is it just a courtesy?

Sometimes, when it’s a text conversation, I’ll start typing how I actually feel, read it back, delete everything, and replace it with “fine” or “good.”

Other times, I wait to see what happens next. If they ask another question immediately, I might let the first one slide. If they circle back to it, my answer will probably be “fine” by then.

But when someone asks how I am and genuinely waits for an answer, something shifts.

Oh, that feeling!

Sometimes, I tear up. Other times, it’s as though they’ve pressed a button I didn’t even know I was waiting for someone to press. Suddenly, the things I’ve been carrying quietly begin to find their way out.

And the surprising part? I usually feel better afterwards.

I’m not sure whether it’s because I enjoy the sound of my own voice, or because I simply needed someone to talk to. Perhaps it’s a little of both.

What I do know is that I don’t necessarily need an answer or a solution. I don’t need a perfectly worded piece of advice or one heavenly sentence that makes everything fall into place.

Sometimes, I just need someone to listen.

To give me the space to speak without feeling like I have to edit myself, minimise what I’m feeling, or reassure them that I’m okay. Someone who can sit with my answer, even when it’s messy, unexpected, or longer than either of us anticipated.

Perhaps that’s what makes the question so difficult sometimes. Answering honestly requires more than knowing how I feel. I have to figure out whether the question is genuine, whether I’m ready to share, and whether I feel safe enough to do so with the person asking.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring it out.

In fact, I was asked that very question just now, and instead of responding, I came here to write about it. Lol. I guess my brain is still working on an answer.

But this has also made me think about the other side of the question.

How often do I ask someone how they are doing? When I ask, do I genuinely want to know? Am I prepared to pause, listen, and make room for an answer that goes beyond “I’m fine”?

I hope I am. And where I’m not, I hope I learn to be more intentional.

I pray for the grace to ask with sincerity, to listen without rushing to fix everything, and to give people the room to be honest with me.

Because sometimes, “How are you?” is more than a greeting. Sometimes, it’s an invitation.

And sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is ask the question, mean it, and stay long enough to hear the answer.