Why It’s Okay Not to Be Okay

Emma sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen, trying to focus on the flood of emails calling for her attention. Her mind was elsewhere, though, drowning under the weight of something undefined. She had it all going for her-the promising career, supportive family, and friends who would always call her the "strong one." Yet in her, she was crumbling with every ounce as she tried to keep up the growing pressure.

She had been brushing it off now, for months, telling herself she was sad and that would be temporary, eventually this tightness in her chest would loosen. Exhaustion to be masked by a smile and she told everyone she was "fine" when asked. The world moved so fast-people, plans-all of them seemingly knowing what they were doing with their lives. She couldn't bear to admit she didn't.

It wasn't until late at night, after another day of faking it, that Emma finally broke. The silence of her apartment was overridden with all she had held in. Sinking to the floor, drawing her knees up, she wept. The tears felt alien, someone else's_FUNder ones. But as she cried more and more it slowly dawned on her that what she was feeling wasn't weakness. It was human.

Her whole life, the mantra was "be strong," "move forward," "tough times don't last." But nobody had ever sat her down to say that at times, it is okay to break down-to be lost. Nobody had ever told her that there was simply no need for her to take upon her little shoulders the weight of the world. It was upon that living room floor, in the core of such vulnerability, that she finally felt the silent fight she had waged so gallantly was one for which she no longer knew how to give alone.

The swollen eyes, the heavy heart, spoke next morning to her to call her friend Sarah. Her hands still shook when she wrote, "I don't think I'm okay."

Within a few minutes, Emma's phone rang. "Emma, I'm coming over," Sarah chimed in firmly yet full of concern. She came on and never pestered her with any irritating question; she never judged her at all. She sat beside Emma, offering her presence to be warm. For the first time in months, Emma opened up about anxiety that had consumed her, loneliness that had engulfed her despite being surrounded by people.

And as she spoke-something strange occurred-she started to feel lighter.

But Sarah did no such thing; instead, she didn't try to fix her. She offered neither advice nor platitudes. She listened, and within the space of that, Emma found something she might have forgotten: the beauty of being heard, of being seen in her struggle.

And so, over the following weeks, Emma began to take baby steps toward healing. She checked herself into therapy, through which she learned it is okay to be vulnerable, for that was being brave. She began to realize everyone fights his or her wars-even that person across the street who seems 'together'. And most importantly, she learned asking for help isn't a sign of weakness, an admission to her own humanity.

The road for Emma was not without its bumps, and it certainly was not linear. There were days when the darkness crept back in, moments that felt like she might break all over again. This time, however, she knew she didn't have to do that alone. This time, she knew that it was okay not to be okay.

The truth is, none of us figured it out. We actually live in a world that demands perfection and glorifies strength and resilience, yet we rarely consider the fact: to be human-or at least feeling-is to feel deeply, which means, it means pain, heartache, confusion, and to be sometimes even falling apart. Yet, it is in that brokenness that the beauty may lie. It is in confessing the need for anyone's help, in being weak enough to say, "I struggle," that strength may lie. For it is only then that we find our true selves, only then do we realize we are never meant to carry an entire world on our shoulders.

Emma's case puts into perspective that behind each smile, each "I'm fine," might be an untold struggle. And that's OK. For it's not in the faking that we find our peace, but in the honesty of our brokenness. So, when you may feel lost, or if the weight on your shoulders sometimes feels unbearable, remember this: It's ok not to be ok. Its ok to ask for help. You don't have to walk this road all alone, for there are hands which would like to hold, ears which want to listen, and hearts that do know about pain. You are not all alone in this silent battle, and sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is to simply give up.