Surviving Grief: Why We Say ‘I’m Fine’ When We’re Not

“How are you?” How many times a day are you asked that? And how many times do you think the person asking wants—or is even ready to hear—the real answer? This is the challenge for someone coping with grief, and one of the many things that comes up daily when surviving loss. Being out in the world can feel overwhelming, and no matter who is asking, we often give the same answer: “I’m fine.” But why? Is it a matter of trust, fatigue, or something else?

By nature, we are social creatures. It’s a survival skill that began with a need to meet our most basic needs. The thing about grief is that you may not feel particularly social right now. In fact, it may be that other people—friends, family, neighbors, co-workers—are one of your biggest stresses or disappointments during this grieving process.

Every encounter after loss can put a grieving person on edge. Before loss, you probably felt you could go into most situations fairly confident about how to interact and respond to those around you. Even if you were someone who sometimes felt socially anxious, you likely didn’t put too much thought into the question, “How are you?”

But life after loss is different. “Can this person handle my answer? Do they really want to know?” Suddenly, every interaction, even the smallest and most innocent question, makes you stop, think, and measure. Every person becomes an assessment—someone who might be able to “be there” for you, or someone who cannot.

It’s important to understand why you may not choose to share your grief with others. Following loss, you may feel simultaneously lonely while also hesitant to spend time with people. The bonds may no longer seem as strong. What once connected you may no longer feel enough.

When surviving grief, your focus narrows almost completely onto your loss. It takes every bit of energy. And through it all, it may feel like no one truly understands. Or worse—that no one truly cares.

This can lead to feeling like part of coping with grief means making your pain more comfortable for others. “I don’t want to be a burden.” “I don’t want to ruin everyone’s good time.” “I can’t keep saying the same things to the same people.” Sound familiar? Most grievers carry a fear that their loss will make others step away—or disappear altogether.

Surviving grief is exactly that: survival. While we may be frustrated and disappointed by the people in our lives, we are also afraid that they’ll leave us too. For those who remain, we put on a smile, say we’re okay, and try to pretend we’re not being crushed by grief every time we breathe.

The problem is that people want you to be okay. They don’t know what to do with your grief. The minute you say, “I’m fine,” they take it at face value. Over time, they may ask less often. Eventually, they may not ask at all—because after all, you told them you were fine.

You are the guide here. You get to determine how long this process takes. You don’t have to make it tidier so others feel comfortable. My mom once gave me advice after I had surgery, when I was a young mother eager to get back on my feet: “Whatever you do, don’t get out of your pajamas too soon. As soon as you do, everyone thinks you’re okay. And suddenly the expectations for what you should be able to do go right back up again.” She was right.

Even though I wasn’t healed, I was eager to look “normal.” But as soon as I did, everyone assumed I was fine—even when I wasn’t. That’s what happens every time we say we’re fine when we’re not. Others assume we’re healed, and the support begins to fade.

You are the one guiding others in this. They can’t know unless you let them. That doesn’t mean sharing every private thought, but it does mean being careful not to give the impression you’re okay before you are.

Part of coping with loss is deciding who to bring on this journey with you. Not everyone can handle the truth of your grief, and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s not the people you expect—maybe a co-worker who has been through something similar, or a friend who shows up in surprising ways. Often, they reveal themselves.

Start with one person. Tell them how you’re really feeling, no matter how hard it is to say out loud. You don’t have to share everything, but let at least one person know the depth of your loss and how long you will need support.

For everyone else, create a script. Not everyone wants to know or can respond in a way that helps. A simple but honest reply can be enough: “It’s been harder than I ever imagined.” Maybe the conversation continues, maybe it doesn’t—but either way, you’ve stayed true to yourself.

And if you feel there’s no one, please seek out grief support. Whether through a group, a counselor, or a community, having someone who understands matters deeply. Even if it isn’t the people you thought would be there, there are others who care and can help.

Grief will always hold private spaces, and you’re entitled to them. Just be careful not to lead everyone to believe you’re doing better than you are.

In the end, my hope is that the only person you’ll ever tell “I’m fine” to, when asked “How are you today?” is the kid at the grocery store checkout.

Fight for your grief, stay authentic, and take every step you can to avoid isolating yourself from those who care.