Usually I can find something funny to say.

Some sarcastic little observation. A joke. A way to make the mess sound a little less messy.

Sometimes I can’t.

Sometimes the mess isn’t funny.

Sometimes life just fucking hurts.

I actually started writing this a few weeks ago.

And then I didn’t post it.

At the time, I think I was just too much in the middle of everything. I didn’t have some inspirational everything happens for a reason speech ready to go. I didn’t know what I was supposed to learn from any of it.

I just knew one thing:

I wasn’t okay.

And I wasn’t ready to talk about why.

Honestly, I’m still not.

Some things still get to be mine.

But I came back to this post because I started this blog to write about the messy parts of life, and it would feel a little dishonest to only show up when the mess is funny.

Because sometimes it isn’t.

And sometimes it’s okay to just admit:

I’m not okay right now.

But Life Keeps Going Anyway

One of the weirdest things about going through something hard is that the rest of the world doesn’t stop while you figure it out.

Your alarm still goes off.

There are still places to be.

People still need things from you.

There are classes and jobs and kids and laundry and dishes and appointments and emails and approximately twelve other things you were supposed to remember.

So you get dressed.

You show up.

You answer questions.

You laugh at something somebody says.

You make dinner.

You do homework.

You go to work.

From the outside, you can look completely normal.

Meanwhile, there’s a little voice in your head going:

Are we seriously just going to keep doing all of this like everything is fine?

Yeah.

I guess we are.

Because sometimes that’s what not being okay looks like.

It doesn’t always look like falling apart.

Sometimes it looks exactly like your normal life.

“How Are You?”

I’m fine.

Good.

Tired.

Busy.

Those are easy answers.

Especially tired.

Tired can mean almost anything without requiring a follow-up question.

And sometimes you genuinely don’t want the follow-up question.

Because how exactly are you supposed to explain everything happening inside your head while standing in a hallway or passing someone at work?

So you say you’re tired.

You smile.

You ask how they’re doing.

And life moves along.

I don’t think that necessarily means you’re being fake.

You don’t owe everyone you encounter an explanation of the things you’re carrying.

But I do think you owe yourself enough honesty to admit when I’m fine isn’t entirely true.

Not Everything Needs a Silver Lining

I think this is something I’m still learning.

Whenever something hurts, there’s this pressure to immediately turn it into something useful.

What did I learn?

How did I grow?

What’s the positive?

What am I grateful for?

How is this going to make me stronger?

Can I maybe just be pissed off first?

Can I be sad?

Can I admit that something hurts without immediately explaining how I’m going to overcome it?

Maybe eventually there will be a lesson.

Maybe someday I’ll look back and understand why certain things happened the way they did.

Or maybe I’ll just look back and think:

Yeah. That really fucking sucked.

Not every bad thing needs to become a beautiful story about personal growth.

Sometimes shitty things are just shitty.

You Can Be Grateful and Still Be Hurting

Two things can be true at the same time.

You can love your life and struggle with parts of it.

You can be proud of yourself and still feel lost.

You can laugh until your stomach hurts and cry later that night.

You can have people who love you and still feel lonely.

You can be excited about what’s ahead and scared shitless about what happens next.

You can know there are good things in your life without using them to invalidate the things that hurt.

Being grateful doesn’t mean you’re required to be happy all the time.

And having good things doesn’t mean the bad things aren’t allowed to hurt.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve realized there’s another pair of things that can be true at the same time:

I can still be hurting and also be okay.

Eventually, Okay Starts Looking Different

When I first wrote this, I didn’t know what “okay” was going to look like.

I think that’s part of why I couldn’t post it.

When you’re right in the middle of something, people love to tell you that eventually everything will be okay.

They’re trying to help.

But when you’re hurting, eventually feels really fucking far away.

And I think I expected being okay to be some big moment.

Like I’d wake up one morning and suddenly everything wouldn’t hurt anymore.

That didn’t happen.

It was smaller than that.

I laughed and actually meant it.

I got excited about something.

I went a few hours without thinking about the thing that had previously occupied every spare corner of my brain.

Then maybe most of a day.

I started thinking about things I wanted to do instead of only thinking about things I wished hadn’t happened.

And somewhere along the way, without really noticing when it happened, I realized:

I’m okay.

Not everything is fixed okay.

Not nothing hurts anymore okay.

Not I’ve figured out my entire life okay.

Just…

Okay.

And I Think I’m Going to Be Okay

I still have hard days.

There are still things that hurt.

There are still moments that catch me completely off guard.

And my mental health is still something I have to deal with every single day. Some days are easier than others. Some days my own brain is still one of the hardest things I have to deal with.

But I’m here.

I’m living my life.

I’m laughing again.

I’m making plans.

I’m finding things to look forward to.

I’m figuring out what comes next, even if I’m doing it one piece at a time.

A few weeks ago, I couldn’t see that yet.

And I’m glad I didn’t force myself to.

I think that’s what I want this post to say more than anything.

It’s okay to not be okay.

You’re allowed to hurt.

You’re allowed to be angry.

You’re allowed to cry.

You’re allowed to not know what comes next.

You don’t have to immediately turn your pain into growth or find the lesson while you’re still living through the thing that’s hurting you.

And you don’t have to rush yourself into being okay.

But not being okay doesn’t mean you’ll never be okay again.

Sometimes it happens so slowly you don’t even realize it’s happening.

And sometimes you’re still hurting when it does.

I think that’s the part I understand now that I didn’t understand a few weeks ago.

Being okay doesn’t mean nothing hurts anymore.

Sometimes it just mean the hurt isn’t everything anymore.

When I first wrote this, I wasn’t okay.

I couldn’t see past where I was standing, and I definitely wasn’t ready to share it.

Now?

I still don’t have everything figured out.

I still hurt.

I still have bad days.

But something happened recently that made me realize just how different things feel now.

I was talking to someone and, for the first time in a while, I let myself really open up about some of the things I’ve been carrying.

They listened.

They let me talk.

They didn’t try to fix it or tell me how I should feel about any of it.

And when I was finished, they asked me a really simple question:

“Are you okay now?”

And without really thinking about it, I answered:

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for listening.”

That was it.

Just a question and an answer. But those words have been sitting with me ever since.

Yeah, I’m okay.

Because a few weeks ago, I don’t know if I could have answered that question the same way.

And the weirdest part is that saying I’m okay doesn’t mean everything that happened suddenly doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t mean I’m completely healed.

It doesn’t mean my mental health magically stopped being something I have to work through every day.

It doesn’t mean I know exactly what comes next.

It just means that somewhere between then and now, something changed.

The hurt stopped being everything.

There are things I’m excited about again.

There are things-and people-that make me smile.

There are moments where I catch myself actually looking forward to what’s next instead of wishing I could go backward and change what already happened.

And maybe that’s why I finally came back and finished this post.

A few weeks ago, I needed to write it’s okay to not be okay.

I just wasn’t ready to share it.

Today, I think I’m finally ready because I can add the part I couldn’t see when I first wrote it:

It’s okay to not be okay.

But you won’t always feel exactly the way you do in your worst moment.

Healing doesn’t mean it never hurts again. And being okay doesn’t mean you’re suddenly completely healed.

Sometimes being okay is simply realizing that the thing that broke your heart isn’t holding every piece of you anymore.

So, if you asked me today:

Are you okay now?

Yeah.

I’m okay.

And I’m going to be okay.

–Mise