The Mask of Fine

We’ve all been there. You’re on the sidelines of a soccer game or in line for a coffee, and someone asks, “How are you?” Without missing a beat, you reply, “I’m fine.” Really?!?  Fine? For many of us, it’s a placeholder, a default response that brushes past the complexities of our true feelings and experiences. 

On a walk with Joelle Moray, author of What Are We Doing?!: Radical Self-Care for the Hustle Culture, we dissected this notion of “fine,” revealing layers of vulnerability, curiosity, and the courage to be authentic.

In a world where social media offers up the highlight reel of everyone else’s life, admitting that things aren’t perfect is taboo. Personally, I pause when I am asked, “How are you?” A voice in my head whispers, “Reveal nothing.” I find it to be a throw-away question so it merits a throw-away answer, “Fine.”

You have to know that “fine” is my kryptonite. As a school leader, I was dismayed when a parent asked, “How was school?” and a child could only respond, “fine.” That signified failure. Did nothing noteworthy happen at school that a child wants to relate to mom or dad? I couldn’t control carpool conversations, but I encouraged parents to ask a more provocative question, such as

• If you could switch seats with anyone in your class, who would it be and why?
• If your teacher had a superpower, what do you think it would be?
• If you wrote a book about your day at school, what would you title it?
• What made you feel proud of yourself today?
• Who made you laugh today?
• What was the hardest thing you had to do today?

A child cannot respond, FINE, to any one of those.

In her practice as a mental performance coach and a nationally certified counselor, Joelle Moray is developing the art of asking better questions. Instead of settling for the usual “How are you?” she suggests we dig deeper. Questions like “What’s been the most positive part of your day?” or “What are you struggling with right now?” invite more meaningful responses. These questions show genuine interest and can lead to richer conversations. They allow people to express themselves beyond the confines of “fine.”

As we walked briskly and breathlessly, the notion of fine shrouded us with a momentary introspective silence.

Liz: Because every time your answer is, “I’m fine.” You chip away a little bit at your growth. For me it feels like a lie.

Joelle: You do. And you also stifle the relationship with the person asking you the question.

Liz: And maybe even your own voice.

Joelle: Yeah. (long pause) And stifle your own voice.

When Joelle asks, How are you? Someone might mention a sliver of the truth: a sore back, a minor inconvenience, the illness of a parent, but her experience tells her there is more to the story. She acknowledges the opening and compassionately settles into those responses. It is easy to rush past a response, but attending to it deepens the experience and possible results for both parties. 

In her presentations for corporate wellness, she reminds her audience that often we hide behind the word “fine” to avoid digging into the real issues. She shares the following image:

It’s easier to say we’re okay than to confront the chaos on our metaphorical desks. Joelle asks her audience to consider the image from two perspectives: as the person asking the question trying to elicit meaningful and helpful dialogue, but also as the woman sitting on the floor. How does that woman respond? She is not fine. At this moment she is barely holding it together. 

Joelle suggests we respond with “ing” words. She offers substitutes for the mask of “fine” …

• I’m pausing right now. 
• I’m growing right now. 
• I’m learning right now. 
• I’m celebrating right now. 
• I’m changing right now 

The list goes on, but each one is better than “I’m fine.” Joelle likes the approach of using “some kind of ING word, the kind of word that has movement that indicates something’s happening.” As a former English teacher, I must admit the gerund is a powerful weapon. ING possesses the extraordinary ability to transform any action verb into a powerful noun, yet maintaining the essence of both verb and noun simultaneously. “I’m pausing right now” feels much more honest than “I’m fine” if I were to reflect on the exchange with someone. I can share more about the pause if I choose to be vulnerable without feeling inauthentic or triggering any imposter syndrome tendencies.

A Platform of Curiosity

These responses also spark curiosity. They offer permission to accept your feelings and your failures and your worries… all of it. Joelle’s platform on mental wellness is all about curiosity. She uses curiosity to get to know her clients and encourages it for us to get to know ourselves. Instead of feeling defensive, embrace curiosity. Why did that question trigger me? Did I assume someone was judging me? Is their judgment more of a reflection on them than it is on me? 

Even when someone raises a difficult question during a presentation, she pivots to curiosity. When asked about something for which she is uncertain, she responds, “This is a great place for curiosity.”  The mindset not only diffuses potential conflict but also models a healthy approach to disagreements or self-doubt. It’s a reminder that we don’t have to have all the answers, and that’s okay. It takes perfectionism out of the game.

Ultimately, we need to be present and patient.  By asking thoughtful questions, and embracing curiosity, we can drop the “fine” mask. We cannot rush through connections with others or ourselves. 

The Patience to be a Mother

As adoptive parents, Joelle and I share a bond. The thread of our experience is a lesson in patience. Four years into motherhood Joelle guesses that she has a different perspective than other moms. “I hope I’m a little more patient. I’m more curious. I see the fragility of life and the rarity of parenthood very differently. It’s a privilege to get to teach someone how to be a human being. It is a huge privilege.” 

We both acknowledge that patience is hard when you make the decision to adopt. The road to that moment has been long enough with challenges and loss and now you’re asked to be patient. Yet that is the very lesson that Joelle and I agree our children taught us: patience.

Joelle and Stefan became parents through foster care in West Virginia. After the application process and home study, they were “open” to get calls about a child. It’s a tricky situation for someone who is not feeling patient as you are presented with the situation of whatever’s happening with a particular child or children. 

Joelle: You need to understand that you can say yes or no. And at first, I was afraid to say no because I thought we would be blacklisted or put to the end of the line or whatever, and that’s just not how it works. They want you to say no if this child is not the right fit for you and your family. Because if not, they don’t want to have to remove the child again. That’s much more traumatizing to the child. 

Yet it is not as easy as yes or no. Joelle recounts multiple stories of saying yes but the child was placed somewhere else. The gift of time allows each instance to be remembered as bumps in the road, but as an adoptive mother myself I know how each YES arrived full of hope and preparation and each loss triggered disappointment and despair.

In January the Morays thought 2020 was their year. Instead the pandemic shut down the courts and their process was derailed…until August when they got a call that there was a baby boy who had just been born with neonatal abstinence syndrome from in utero drug exposure. Their YES was met with a clear harbinger that the goal was reunification.  While there was visitation with the birth family for a few months, the baby and birth mother were never officially reunified. At ten months, the birth family relinquished their rights and her son was eligible for adoption, which wasn’t finalized until he was about 15 months old. 

Those are facts. Dates and agreements that feel contractual. I assume, perhaps incorrectly, that you have to have lived the experience of adoption to feel what it is like to walk through days holding your breath. The sense of possible loss becomes palpable, but for the Morays they had more than their hope to take care of.

On October 8, in the midst of newly navigating the journey of fostering their son, an OB GYN reached out to share that a patient was choosing adoption. Days later, Joelle was in the room when her daughter was born. Her son was only ten weeks old.

No adoption is “guaranteed.” A child has to live with you for six months before it is legally finalized. In this case, however, Joelle had met the birth mother and knew reunification was unlikely. Joelle remembered, “I made a promise to her. She feels that I can do this better than she could. And that’s a responsibility. That’s a great responsibility.” Ultimately, adoption is a promise made to provide the best life possible for a child, acknowledging the trust and hope extended by another mother.

Liz: I would say that the conversation about that promise to another mother lives on the horizon and keeps you in a different mindset as a parent. There’s a day in the future that you need to help your daughter understand adoption and realize there’s more than you…talk about humbling, talk about vulnerable.

Joelle: My daughter’s about to be four, and there’s a teacher at school who’s pregnant. And so now we have it – the questions. Is there a baby in her belly? Yeah. When I grow up, can I have a baby in my belly? Was there ever a baby in your belly? Whose belly was I in? …now it’s here.

Liz: That here moment for me came when Ella, who always knew she was born of my heart not my belly, asked, Do I have siblings? Before my mind could form a response, I realized Grace was crying. 

Joelle: Dang.

Liz: These are the things. There’s no manual, right?  

There was a montage playing out in my mind. I could see a day when Ella meets her biological siblings and Grace is standing alone… a surviving twin surviving another loss. That moment only happened in my mind. The narrative has yet to play itself out over a decade later, but it is there. It lies in wait for any adoptive mother. Maybe that is why we find ourselves trying to be more patient. To live in the moment in front of us instead of ruminating on a possible situation on the horizon.

So what does Joelle hope her children will say about their mother someday?

Joelle: My mom is smart, funny, ambitious, a good cook, likes to dance in the kitchen. You know, I hope they say… Patient. They probably won’t say that.

Liz: Maybe they’ll be good at the ING words.

Joelle: Yeah, right. She’s practicing patience.

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