People come to therapy for all kinds of reasons. A friend’s suggestion. A sleepless night that stretched into a hundred. A quiet accumulation of “fine” that finally stopped feeling true.
I wrote this poem after years of sitting across from people in their first sessions. The words changed, but the rhythm rarely did.
I’m fine
Why am I here? My friends said it would be a good idea so that’s why I came.
How’s work? Fine. How’s the family? Fine. How’s my social life? Fine. Everything is fine.
Why am I here today? Like I said my friends don’t think I’m fine.
They told me that I should come here today because,
well I don’t sleep very well I can’t seem to turn off my brain.
I suppose I do a lot of overthinking–But who’s not this world is fucking insane.
Yeah, I guess I feel disconnected. It’s lonely most days.
I don’t think I can find anyone to date. I hate the stupid apps.
So, I often feel like a loser. Destined to be alone.
And it’s ok, because I’m fine.
It’s been going on for about two years, I guess.
Well, if I’m honest, it feels like I’ve always felt this way.
I guess, I’m here today because I always say that I’m fine.
And well maybe I’m not…
What “I’m Fine” Is Actually Protecting
“Fine” is one of the most clinically loaded words in my work. It signals not contentment, but containment — a holding pattern people adopt long before they have language for what they’re actually experiencing.
What I hear beneath “fine” is almost always more complex: chronic loneliness, persistent low mood, disrupted sleep, a creeping sense of falling behind in life. These aren’t small things. They are the texture of depression, anxiety, and disconnection — conditions that respond well to treatment, but only once we stop calling them fine.
The research supports this. Emotional suppression is linked to depression, anxiety disorders, and social anxiety — and avoidant coping consistently predicts poorer psychological outcomes, including higher rates of depression, anxiety, and stress. The longer someone maintains a “fine” narrative, the more normalized the distress becomes — and the harder it is to recognize as something worth addressing.
Why People Wait
Most people who come to therapy don’t arrive in crisis. They arrive tired. Tired of performing okayness. Tired of explaining the gap between how they look and how they feel. Tired of not sleeping.
The average delay between the onset of mental health symptoms and seeking professional support is 11 years. A decade. That’s not avoidance so much as it is a failure of permission — people simply don’t believe their experience is “bad enough” to warrant help.
It is. It always has been.
What Happens When We Start Talking
The moment someone stops reciting “fine” and starts describing their actual experience — the apps they hate, the loneliness they’ve stopped mentioning, the two years that feel like a lifetime — something shifts. Not dramatically. But meaningfully.
That shift is where the real work begins. And in my experience, it begins far faster than most people expect.
If any of this sounds familiar — if you’ve been telling people you’re fine while privately wondering why everything feels so heavy — I’d like to talk. You can read more about me here
Summer offer: 15% off therapy packages booked in June and July. Limited spots available.
Contact me – Book here.
If you’re struggling and need to talk to someone right now, you’re not alone.
In Germany: Telefonseelsorge — 0800 111 0 111 (free, 24/7) International directory of crisis centres: iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres