'How Have You Been?' : The Trick Question That Makes Me Panic

Okay, let me confess. Lately, this innocent phrase, “How have you been?” has been making me question my life.

A coworker had just come back from vacation, all tanned and relaxed, breezing into the office. She saw me in the hallway, smiled, and casually asked:
“Hey! How are youuuuuuuuu? How have you been?”

Totally normal question. Basic human interaction.
But for some reason, it threw me.

Because I heard myself say, almost on autopilot:
“Oh, I’ve been good!”

And in that exact moment, something in me blinked and went,
“…Wait. Have I, though?”

At first, it seems like no big deal. But suddenly, it’s like a friendly grenade that explodes right in the middle of my brain, shattering my thoughts into a million pieces. And, there’s this weird pause in my head, like… wait, what do I say to that? And I know I’m not alone in this.

For a second, it’s like your brain glitches. You’re hit with this quiet, almost unspoken pressure to answer in the “right” way. And what exactly is the “right” way? Is there even a right answer?

It’s not that you’re avoiding the question—it’s more like... well, you kind of start to realize there’s a whole emotional inventory that needs sorting before you can even respond. And that's where it gets a little tricky.

The question sounds so harmless, so polite. But then I start thinking about it. What do they actually mean by "How have you been?" Is it just a formality? Or is it their way of opening the floodgates to a deep and philosophical conversation?

The real panic comes when you start to dissect the possible answers. What if you say, “I’ve been okay,” and then they respond with, “Oh, just okay? What’s been going on?” Uh-oh, now I have to actually admit that I’ve been a mix of frustrated, stressed out, and a little burnt out for the past few months. Which, of course, is so much fun to explain in the office hallway.

Or worse, what if everything’s been kind of fine? Like, no drama, no major emotional rollercoasters—but is “fine” a sufficient answer? Should I be more positive? Should I throw in a little extra enthusiasm, like “Oh, I’ve been great! Just living the dream!” Even though inside, I’m like, “Do I actually know what living the dream means?”

Suddenly, I’m not in a hallway anymore. I’m in my head, doing an unscheduled emotional status check like:
Okay... job’s fine. Bills are paid. I’ve been eating semi-responsibly.
Went on a walk last week. Didn’t totally melt down when the Wi-Fi cut out.
On paper? I’m functioning.

But something still feels... off.

So what is that thing?

Is it burnout? Loneliness? That post-pandemic hangover we all silently pretend isn’t still following us around?
Is it boredom dressed up as busyness?
Is it the way we’ve all been conditioned to measure “doing well” in productivity and checklists instead of peace and connection?

I honestly don’t know.

But I do know that I’m not alone in this.
More and more, I talk to people—friends, coworkers, strangers online—who say the same kind of thing:
"I'm fine, but also kind of... not?"
Like they’re moving through life in this weird blur of half-present, half-performing, waiting for some kind of clarity or breakthrough that never quite lands.

There’s this quiet pressure to be okay. To be stable. To be grateful.
Especially when things aren’t actively falling apart.
Like unless you’re in the middle of a full-blown crisis, you don’t get to say you’re struggling.

If you’re anything like me, you probably start to replay the past few weeks or months in your head, trying to figure out what the “official” summary of your life is. Has it been chaotic? Mediocre? Low-key depressing? Or are you just tired? What’s the acceptable level of “fine” that won’t raise any eyebrows but also isn’t a blatant lie?

This whole "How have you been?" thing has layers, like an onion, and the deeper you go, the more you realize you’re just dodging the truth. Sometimes I’m like, "What if I told them I’m not okay?" Or worse, "What if I told them I’m too okay?" Either way, it's a lose-lose situation.

And then there’s the pressure to sound excited even if you’ve been struggling. “I’m goooooooood!” you might say, but you say it in a way that almost feels too loud. You try to make it sound convincing, but underneath, there’s this sense of doubt, like do I really feel good? But if you don’t say that you’re good, does that mean you’re somehow failing at life? That you’re just one more person who can’t get it together?

If you’re being honest, sometimes you don’t feel good. Sometimes you’re overwhelmed. Sometimes you’ve been stuck in a loop. And sometimes, you’re not sure if the next step is even clear. But saying all of that—saying “I’m not doing great”—feels like asking for an emotional deep dive that you didn’t even sign up for.

It’s almost like you’re supposed to give an answer that’s just enough—not too much, but also not too little. Something that doesn’t sound like you’ve been falling apart, but also doesn’t make you come off as totally robotic. It’s like walking a tightrope between oversharing and giving an answer that sounds like you’ve been living under a rock.

It’s an awkward spot to be in because, more often than not, people don’t actually want to know the full extent of how you’re doing. They want the headline, the Instagram version of “I’m fine, thanks.” They don’t want to unpack all the details of your complicated mental state. And, honestly, sometimes you don’t either. Sometimes, you just want a safe space to exist without having to explain your emotional weather report.

Sometimes, the truth is:

“I’ve been holding it together. Mostly. Some days are better than others. I smile, I do the things, I show up. I laugh at the stupidest stuff(dark humour mostly), because laughing at the absurdity feels safer than sitting in the discomfort. But yeah… there's this low-key ‘Mehhhhh’ I can’t explain.”

It’s hard to say any of this out loud without sounding dramatic or ungrateful.
So we don't.
We smile. We sip our coffee. We give the script-response:
“I’ve been good.”

Even if we’re not entirely sure what that means anymore.

And maybe that’s what gets me. How easy it is to live in that in-between space. Not miserable, not joyful. Just… managing.

Maybe the real answer to “How have you been?” is:
“I’m figuring it out. I’m tired, but I’m trying. I feel weirdly okay and not okay at the same time. I’m laughing, I’m functioning, I’m probably overdue for a long cry, I keep postponing. But I’m here.”

And some days? That’s enough.
It has to be.