History class, more than three decades ago now. Mr P at the blackboard talking about the survival of the fittest. Suddenly, he turns and asks me why I always say that I’m fine whenever someone asks how I am.
I stare at him, blank. He goes on – I’d just returned from a few days away, sick. I haven’t fully recovered, it’s there in my pale skin and tired eyes. Yet, when he asked me how I am as I walked into class, I said I was fine without a pause.
I’m fine, or I’m good have been my default answer since childhood. I don’t even have to think, either one or the other is answer enough.
I was reminded of them again today, when someone asked me how I am and I automatically answered I’m good. But I wasn’t, I’m not. I’m recovering from the flu, and I have a head cold. It’s not only that I don’t want to talk about myself but also, it wasn’t any of their business or concern how I really am.
People who are not your family or friends mostly don’t care how you really are, they’re only asking to be polite.