How Are You?

“How are you?”

It’s a question most of us ask almost automatically. A social reflex. A greeting more than an inquiry.

Yet this week, I was asked that question twice, and for some reason, it stopped me in my tracks.

Not because I didn’t know how to answer it, but because it felt unfamiliar.

That realisation has stayed with me longer than I expected.

I’ve been trying to figure out why it felt so strange. Is it because I’m simply not used to being asked? Or is it because I’ve become so accustomed to keeping things moving that I no longer know how to respond when someone genuinely pauses to check in?

I’m not sure which possibility is more confronting.

On one hand, perhaps it points to something many of us experience: how infrequently we are truly checked on. We spend our days connected to colleagues, friends, family, group chats, social platforms, and endless streams of communication. We are constantly in contact, yet meaningful check-ins can feel surprisingly rare.

On the other hand, maybe the discomfort says something about me.

Maybe it reveals a struggle with vulnerability.

When someone asks how I’m doing, the expected response is often short and efficient. “Good, thanks.” “Busy, but fine.” The conversation moves on. But when the question feels genuine, when it seems to invite a real answer, I notice an instinct to retreat. To deflect. To keep things at the surface.

That reaction makes me wonder whether I’ve become too comfortable being the person who supports others, listens to others, helps others navigate challenges, while rarely allowing myself to occupy that same space.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

My work is deeply people-centred. Much of what I do revolves around connection, collaboration, learning, and helping people feel supported. Yet being asked a simple question about myself felt unexpectedly exposing.

Maybe that’s why loneliness has become such a common experience, despite living in the most connected era in human history.

We often measure connection by proximity and accessibility. We can reach almost anyone instantly. We know what people are doing, where they’ve been, and what they’re thinking. Yet genuine connection requires something different. It requires presence. Curiosity. Vulnerability. It requires people being willing to ask meaningful questions and others being willing to answer them honestly.

Neither side is easy.

As I sat with this feeling, I realised the question wasn’t really about whether people ask me how I am. It was about what happens when they do.

Why did it feel unfamiliar?

Why did it feel slightly uncomfortable?

Why did it feel, in some strange way, confrontational?

Perhaps because it forced me to acknowledge something I hadn’t paid attention to. Not just how connected I am to others, but how willing I am to let others connect with me.

I don’t have a neat conclusion.

I still don’t know whether this feeling comes from a lack of being checked on, a reluctance to be vulnerable, or some combination of the two.

What I do know is that a simple question managed to reveal more than I expected.

And maybe that’s the value of being asked, and asking, “How are you?” Not as a greeting, but as an invitation.

An invitation to pause.

An invitation to be honest.

An invitation to let someone in, even if only a little.

And perhaps that’s something I need to get better at accepting.