The Weight of “Fine”- What Nobody Tells You About Mental Health
By Nandita Chopra, Corporate Psychologist
The Lie We All Tell
“How are you?”
“Fine. You?”
We’ve rehearsed this exchange so many times it feels like muscle memory. Fine- that hollow, polished word we use to deflect, to protect, to avoid the messy truth that we’re barely holding it together some days.
Here’s what nobody warned me about mental health- it doesn’t always look like crying in the shower or unable to get out of bed. Sometimes it looks like answering emails at 2 AM because your brain won’t shut off. Sometimes it’s feeling disconnected at your own birthday party. Sometimes it’s the exhaustion of pretending you’re okay because the world feels too heavy to explain why you’re not.
The Permission Slip You Didn’t Know You Needed
You don’t need a diagnosis to validate your struggle.
You don’t need to hit “rock bottom” to deserve support.
You don’t need to have it worse than someone else for your pain to count.
Mental health exists on a spectrum- a messy, nonlinear, deeply personal spectrum. Some days you’re thriving. Some days you’re surviving. Both are valid. Both are human.
What Actually Helps (From Someone Who’s Been There)
I’m someone who’s learned to navigate the fog through trial, error, and occasionally spectacular failure. Here are the things that actually moved the needle for me:
- Naming It Out Loud
There’s power in specificity. “I’m anxious” is vague. “I’m anxious about the presentation because I’m afraid, I’ll embarrass myself and people will think I’m incompetent” gives you something to work with. Write it down. Say it to a friend. Whisper it to your cat. Language shrinks monsters.
- The 5-Minute Rule
When everything feels overwhelming, I make a deal with myself- Just five minutes. Five minutes of fresh air. Five minutes of tidying one corner. Five minutes of sitting with the feeling instead of running from it. Momentum is real, but it doesn’t require heroic effort to start.
- Building Your “Emergency Kit”
Not the bandages-and-thermometer kind. The “what do I need when I’m spiraling” kind:
- A playlist that grounds you (mine has embarrassingly high amounts of Bon Iver)
- A person who gets it- really gets it- on speed dial
- A physical anchor: ice cubes in your hands, a weighted blanket, cold water on your wrists
- A reminder, written when you’re lucid, that feelings are temporary even when they feel eternal
- Redefining “Productivity”
Capitalism taught us that worth equals output. Healing requires unlearning that. Some days, productivity is showering. Sometimes it’s sending one email. Sometimes it’s choosing rest without guilt. You are not a machine. You are not a project to optimize. You are a human being, and human beings need rest, play, and pointless joy.
The Hard Truth About Getting Better
Healing isn’t linear. You’ll have weeks where you feel like you’ve “figured it out,” followed by days where you’re right back where you started. This isn’t failure-it’s pattern recognition. You’re learning your own rhythms, your triggers, your warning signs.
Therapy helped me, but it wasn’t the cinematic breakthrough moment I expected. It was slow, boring, occasionally frustrating work of showing up and telling the truth. Medication helped too, after I stopped treating it like a moral failing. What works is personal, and finding it takes patience you probably don’t feel like you have.
You’re Not Alone in the Dark
I know how isolating mental health struggles feel. How the same whispers that everyone else has it together, that you’re uniquely broken, that speaking up will make people uncomfortable.
But here’s what I’ve learned from being vulnerable: everyone is fighting something. The colleague who seems so put-together? Grief. The friend who cancels plans last minute? Burnout. The parent who never slows down? Anxiety they’re too scared to name.
When we start telling the truth- really telling it- we create space for others to do the same. We weave nets for each other.
A Final Thought
Your mental health journey is yours alone, but you don’t have to walk it alone.
If you’re struggling right now, please reach out- to a friend, a therapist, a crisis line. If you’re not ready to talk, that’s okay too. Just know that this feeling is not your final destination. The fact that you’re still here, still reading, still trying- that’s not nothing. That’s courage.
Be gentle with yourself today. You’re doing better than you think.
