I Promise I'm Okay

Four different people have, within the last five days, asked me if I'm okay.

Not the joking kind, like when you have a coughing fit and, after rounds of semi-restrained laughter and choruses of "DRINK MUCH?!" someone invariably snarks, "Um, are you okay?"

The genuinely concerned kind. The kind that comes with a head-tilt and a lowered voice, as if talking about something taboo, something shameful. As if you've been giving out a vibe that causes your friends to think you're inches away from bursting into tears, or going on some kind of bender.

Am I giving off that vibe? Do I seem weird to you?

It's very sweet, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that I have such great friends (and family) to be concerned about me when they think something's wrong. On the other hand, I'm getting kind of weirded out.

See, the thing is: I'm fine. There's absolutely nothing wrong at all. Or, rather, nothing more severe than usual. I mean, sure -- I'm a touch anxious about all the pervasive life uncertainty, and yeah, wearing my wool peacoat and my scarves is growing sort of tiresome. But show me the woman who isn't anxious about something, anything in her current life; show me the woman who doesn't die a little bit inside every day past the Spring Equinox that she wakes up to a forecast of "feels like" 19 degrees. Show me that woman and I will show you a filthy liar.

Friends of mine, you're wonderful. I love you, and I love that you love me back. I love that you're concerned about me.

But I promise you, I'm okay.