Mental Health Monday

Good afternoon, readers. I hope you’re well today.

And I know that “well” can mean so many different things. Here, the sun is shining, birds are singing, lunch is nearly ready, and I’ve met a deadline. I am well. I feel well.

For you, “well” might mean that you’re just signed a huge contract. Or that you’ve held off on signing a contract. That you' got out of bed today, or chose to stay in bed a little longer. You had a long walk or a quick workout or a still and silent meditation. You ate cookies from breakfast, or made a kale smoothie.

The point is, what makes us feel “well” varies so greatly. During the global pandemic, we began to say “I hope you’re well” often. Probably too often.

“I hope this email finds you well.”

“Be well.”

“Stay well and healthy.”

Even if a person is actually well as in “not physically infected with a bacteria or virus” that doesn’t mean they are “well.” There are invisible illnesses, from the mental kind to the immunity kind to the systemic. There are stressors: Work, family, social, educational, global.

When we say “I hope you’re well,” we are trying to say “I hope you’re as well as can be, given all of the things that could possibly be wrong with any of us at any given moment.”

But what if we decided that “I hope you’re well” attaches only to a given moment? What if we acknowledge that all we have is the present and that’s all we’re trying to acknowledge?

In other words, what if we became intentional about our greetings to our fellow humans?

It isn’t easy, for any of us. At recent events, I’ve noticed that everyone is sticking out their hands again, waiting for a handshake. Even George Washington knew that shaking hands is one of the best and easiest ways to spread disease — and he advocated against it. But we’ve gone right back to our old ways without thinking about it because shaking a person’s hand gives us a connection to them. We want that connection.

We want each other to be well. We can’t stay well permanently. Too much of life is subject to change. But the next time you write or type or say “I hope you’re well” perhaps you, perhaps I, will think for a moment and remember that moments are all we have. Stay well. Until that isn’t possible. Then keep doing the next right thing until you’re well again.