The Prophecy is Unfolding as Expected
don't overthink it`
I’m becoming increasingly unsure if there’s a situationally appropriate and non-verbose way to answer the question, “How are you doing?” in today’s world.
“How are you doing?”
“Good! Other than the instability of our democracy and the unraveling of all institutional norms, things are really good.”
A few years ago, I made a deal with myself: I’d try to answer “How are you?” with honesty. Partly because I enjoy the shock and discomfort in people’s eyes when you start launching into a genuine assessment of your emotional and physical state. But also because it gave me a real-time check-in—a tiny moment to ask myself how I was actually doing.
Lately, though, I’m finding it harder to answer. The question feels... loaded.
“How are you doing?”
“How much time do you have?”
It doesn’t help that, more than usual, I’ve been struggling to really get in touch with my emotions. They feel like a guarded black box in my brain. That’s obviously dramatic—I do feel emotions—but the usual internal narration of “I feel calm” or “I feel sad” has dried up.
“How are you doing?”
“Well, I’m finding it impossible to get in touch with my emotions, so I don’t have an answer for you right now. How are you?”
How am I doing? If I ignore the systematic dismantling of both of my career paths—higher education and public health—then I suppose I’m just a normal amount of anxious and tired. I’m in the editing stages of my first book, and while it’s been one of the greatest joys of my life, it’s also been terrifying, vulnerable, and overwhelming.
A significant portion of my daily brain space is occupied by a mental battle between “You’re going to be the most iconic and beloved author of all time” and “Everyone is humoring you. Your book is garbage.” It’s a really fun time.
“How are you doing?”
“I suspect I’m a terrible writer and that everyone in my life is just hyping me up out of pity. And when a literary agent reads my book, they’re going to laugh in my face for even trying to publish it. But otherwise, good!”
You may be thinking, “Mallory, this is a very depressing newsletter. Surely there are some good things in your life,” to which I would respond: Yes. Thank you for asking.
My life is generally good! Am I unsure if I’ll ever afford a house? Yes. Am I feeling lonely and starved of female friendship? Absolutely. Do I wonder every day if today is the day everyone realizes I’m an imposter? You bet.
But—I also have the sweetest, silliest, most loving husband, who makes me laugh and does the dishes. I have a sweet, emotionally unstable dog who lives to nap on my lap. I have a job I adore. Coworkers I genuinely like. An apartment with almost enough natural light.
Things are good. But “good” never quite captures the enormity of what’s going on inside us. “Good” is the tip of the iceberg. I’m good—and also scared for the future. I’m good—and also exhausted most of the time.
“How are you doing?”
“Good, but also not good in many ways.”
Maybe it’s time to start responding with vague, confusing, slightly menacing answers.
“How are you doing?”
“Give me a couple minutes to check with my therapist and I’ll get back to you.”
Vague. Unclear. Slightly humorous.
“How are you doing?”
“Ah, but I am just one of many.”
Confusing. Annoying. Eyebrow-raising.
“How are you doing?”
“My ego has been absorbed into the universe. I am no longer sure if I exist.”
Concerning. Puzzling. Possibly a red flag.
So I propose a moratorium on all “How are you doing?” inquiries unless you have five hours and a deep understanding of philosophical frameworks.
Or maybe I’ll just start saying, “The prophecy is unfolding as expected!” and see who sticks around.