Please stop asking me how I am

The fact is that I am fine.

I have suffered with depression. It's usually mild. It's often non-existent. It's not obvious and it doesn't affect anything. I am a practiced depressive. Exorcised.  Once upon a time it took control of me but I took action, sought help and I recovered to a state where now I occasionally suffer mild half baked depression. Look at me, I can't even commit to being depressed.

Depression strikes when things aren't going well. I am stressed.  I am tired. I forgot. I did wrong. Mild euphoria strikes when things are going well. When I am winning at life. When I am at the top of the stairs. On fire. In charge. Ok. Sometimes when I am stressed.

Fact is that when I get out of bed, in from work, in to work, arrive at the shops. I am just ok. I am Christopher Robin, neither half way up or half way down. It is indeed my favourite place.

If you ask...maybe you care... maybe you don't. Do you want the truth? What are you going to do with the information? Does it matter? Does it make me feel better or you? Will you understand my answer?

What makes me happy? A hug. The wind on my face when I ride. A cat with her tail in the air and a happy chirrup. You having fun. Helping. Giving. Sharing. Breakfast. Hot showers. Rain that turns tree leaves green and bark so black. Lace. Art. Camping. Biscuits. Feeling wild. Feeling tired. Clean teeth. Soft hair. Sunlight. Victiorian machinery. Debates about science. Marriage. Spaces. Fluffy socks. Flirting. Cheese and apples. Learning from others.

When you ask how I am it just reminds me that at that moment I am flat or earlier I was lost, lonely, insecure. It doesn't remind me that I have just been happy it reminds me that earlier, now, I was average or worse. 

I want you to see how I am.

 I want you to you recognise that I just rode my bike or that I had an easy drive, ran a run, finished it, found it, know what"it" is.  I am in the middle of it. That I just had an amazing idea, solved a problem, saw a thing, won a battle, beat the system. I don't need you to ask. If I want to tell you I will.

 If I am sad I want space to be sad because depression taught me that it's ok. I don't have to be great. I just need to be ok. You shouldn't have to ask. I don't want to say. I don't need to put a label on it because "ok" doesn't do "ok" justice and "great" is overstating life.

 Great is a bonus. A far fetched occasionally beautiful and present bonus.

I'm ok. I'm always ok. I only want to be ok.

So please. Stop. Asking. Me.