It’s OK Not to Be OK

I was crying on the treadmill.

Each time I tried to run, or even jog, my body would not allow it. My ankles seized up. My shoulder hurt. I couldn’t seem to move my feet in a rhythm.

I settled back to walking.

And I cried.

I cried because grief was pouring through me. Grief over the passing of my grandma. Grief over my perceived loss of my vitality, as my body struggles to move in ways it moved just a couple of weeks ago. Grief over other losses and endings.

And who knows what else those tears carried.

When I got off the treadmill, a friend approached me.

Are you ok? She asked.

This is where most people would say, Yes, I’m fine.

Better not to burden anyone else with your grief. Better not to share your problems. Better to keep it to yourself.

Or maybe not.

I’m not a good liar on my best days, and on a day like this one I had no energy to mask. So I answered my truth:

No. I’m not ok.

And then my friend said, I’m going to give you a hug. And she did.

In her embrace, my tears flowed even more. Right there on the turf in the middle of the gym.

And it was ok.

In fact, it was better than ok. It was nurturing. Healing.

Hugs are some of the best medicine we can receive when we are grieving.

And it’s medicine I could get only because I dared to be honest and admit what was already obvious:

I was not ok.

Nobody is ok all the time. And that is ok.