Honestly,

I’m not OK.

I wish I could tell you this. I’ve wanted to so many times when you ask how I am.

I’m not OK.

Is what I want to say.

Instead, I nod my head. Usually just one confident nod. Sometimes I’ll nod a few times. For security.

Tilt it slightly to the left.

Make sure my smile is big but not too big.

I am so good!

And then I immediately segue into talking about you. Asking how you are. What you have been up to. Steering as far away from the subject of me as I can get us. See how good I am at it? I amaze myself sometimes with how good of an actress I can be.

I feel myself dying a little bit more on the inside. Angry that I let another opportunity come and go. Another opportunity to open my mind up—just a little—and let some of the demons out.

But I don’t I can’t I want to. I want to so badly. But I can’t.

Because here’s the thing: I was fine the day before. I was fine the week before. I’ve been fine a whole month before!

Before it came back. Because it always comes back. It tricks me. It tricks you more.

You see how good I’ve been. Maybe I was even great. Amazing. Fantastic. And I want you to know I really was. But you, like so many others, were tricked into thinking maybe it wouldn’t come back. That sense that I had been doing so well. I’d been so happy. That I could do this.

You’re not the only one, though. It got me, too. Except, deep down, I always knew the truth. I knew that it would eventually be back. It always comes back. Sometimes it never really leaves at all.

And so, I can’t tell you. I like feeling as though someone is proud of me. I like seeing and hearing something other than concern when someone asks how I’m doing. Just as long as I don’t say it out loud.

I’m sick.

Then I can pretend for a little while longer that I am OK.