How Are You, Really?

It’s a question we rarely ask with honesty. And even less often answer with truth.

“How are you?”
Usually, it’s just filler. A verbal handshake. Something people say to open a conversation—not because they’re ready to hear the answer, but because it’s polite. Expected.

But today, I want to ask for real:
How are you—really?

Because if you’re like me, if you’ve been carrying more than you let on, if you’ve been surviving more than living… it’s probably been a while since anyone asked with the intention of listening.

And I get it. We’re men. We’re conditioned to keep moving. To shake it off. To fix it ourselves. To be "fine."

But that doesn’t mean we are.

I’ve been thinking about the way this world talks about men—when it talks about us at all. The jokes. The "men suck" comments. The moments where you try to share something and get hit with, “Well that doesn’t include you,” but the sting still lands. We laugh it off, but… it sticks. Especially when it keeps happening.

And what hurts the most is that we’re not supposed to feel anything about it. If we speak up, we’re weak. If we stay silent, we’re cold. If we open up, we’re “too emotional.” If we don't, we’re "toxic." It’s a lose-lose script we didn’t write—but we’re expected to follow anyway.

So this post is for every guy who’s been sitting with that silent ache.
For every man who’s heard “You’re not allowed to be upset,” and tried to believe it.
For every brother out there who’s exhausted but keeps showing up, even when it feels like no one notices.

You are seen.
You are heard.
You are valued.

Not for what you do. Not for what you provide. Not for how well you hide the pain.
But simply because you exist.

And if you’re struggling, I need you to know: it’s okay to reach out.
It’s okay to cry.
It’s okay to be angry.
It’s okay to not be okay.

You don’t have to have the perfect words. You don’t have to have a plan. You just have to start. A message. A call. A breath. A moment.

Because none of this gets better when we keep pretending we’re fine.
It gets better when we build spaces—like this one—where it’s safe to not be.

So if you're here, if you're reading this, if you're feeling like the world hasn't noticed how hard it's been to hold on -

I see you.
And I’m glad you're still here.

This world needs more honesty.
More connection.
More men unlearning silence.
More safe spaces where truth doesn’t cost you your dignity.

Thank you for letting me build that with you.
And thank you, genuinely, for asking me how I’m doing.
Because that question, asked with care, has the power to change everything.

🖤 Keep moving forward.
Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s messy.
Because you’re not alone anymore.