TRAIL NOTES
Is Someone Going to Ask Me How I’m Doing?
When Life Asks More of Us
When my mother was battling Stage IV breast cancer, I was trying to balance the demands of my professional life with what was happening in my family. My mother was fighting hard for her life, and my father, who was her primary caregiver, was doing everything he could to support her through it. Watching two people I loved so deeply go through something so difficult was heartbreaking, and as someone who has always been naturally empathetic and inclined to take care of others, I found myself wanting to take care of both of them.
I've spent much of my life being the person who takes on responsibility, whether that meant navigating complicated situations during my career at Delta Air Lines or being there for the people I love. I'm also the eldest daughter, which probably explains a few things, though we can save that conversation for another day. At the time, I was also in midlife, beginning to think about what I wanted from my own life and what the years ahead might look like, even as I continued managing the responsibilities and expectations that were already part of it.
When people asked how my mother was doing, I understood why, and I appreciated their concern. They cared about her, and many of them knew how much my father was carrying as well. I could talk about her treatments, how she was feeling, or how my father was managing things, because those were the circumstances occupying so much of our lives.
But somewhere in the middle of all those conversations, I remember wondering whether anyone would ask how I was doing.
The Person Who Has Everything Under Control
I've thought about that question many times over the years, and I think part of what makes it interesting is that I wasn't particularly comfortable asking for help in the first place. I've always been more at ease being the person who offers support, listens when someone needs to talk, or steps in when something needs handling. Taking care of other people has never felt like an obligation I've resented; it's simply part of who I am, and I genuinely value that about myself.
During my 31 years at Delta Air Lines, I held positions that required me to make decisions, solve problems, and navigate situations that weren't always straightforward. I enjoyed that responsibility, and over time I became someone people could depend on. What I've come to recognize, though, is that when you're known for being capable and having things under control, people don't always realize that you may be experiencing something difficult yourself. And to be fair, sometimes we contribute to that impression because we're so accustomed to carrying on with whatever needs our attention.
I also grew up hearing my mother tell me, whenever I was upset, "No more tears. You're stronger than that." I know she wanted me to be strong, and I don't share that memory as a criticism of her, but I've wondered whether I carried those words into adulthood in ways I didn't fully appreciate at the time. Perhaps somewhere along the way I began to associate strength with managing difficult things without showing just how much they were affecting me. I can't say for certain, but I do know that admitting I was struggling or letting someone else take care of me for a change, didn't always come naturally.
And that brings me to something I find particularly interesting about the question I was asking during my mother's illness. Even when someone did ask how I was doing, and I knew they genuinely cared about the answer, I sometimes found it difficult to respond honestly. I could tell them how my mother was doing, what was happening with her treatment, or how my father was managing, but talking about my own experience required a different kind of openness. It meant allowing someone to see that, despite being perfectly capable of handling my responsibilities, I was also navigating something emotionally difficult.
Looking back, I wonder how often we do this without even realizing it. We become so accustomed to the roles we play in other people's lives, whether as a parent, spouse, daughter, friend, colleague, or leader, that we spend much of our time paying attention to how everyone else is doing. And while there's nothing inherently wrong with caring deeply about the people around us, I think it's possible to become so focused on their experiences that we don't always make room to consider our own.
Different Mountains, Different Experiences
I've also come to realize that this experience isn't necessarily limited to the difficult circumstances we encounter in life. Sometimes the changes we're navigating are ones we've chosen, worked toward, or looked forward to for years, and yet we can still find ourselves feeling a little uncertain about where we fit within them.
I think about my own retirement after 31 years at Delta. It was something I had chosen, and I was genuinely excited about the freedom and possibilities ahead of me. I'd spent so much of my adult life in a career I loved, surrounded by people I respected, doing work that challenged me and gave me an enormous sense of purpose. Then, almost overnight, that familiar part of my life was gone. I was happy to be retired, but I was also beginning to discover that knowing what I was retiring from wasn't quite the same as knowing what I wanted to move toward.
So many experiences in life can bring us to a similar place. A promotion we've worked hard to earn can change how we spend our time and the expectations we place on ourselves. As children become more independent, we can feel tremendous pride alongside questions about how our own lives are changing. Even a move to a new place or the start of a relationship can require us to adjust to circumstances different from what we've known. We may be genuinely grateful for what's happening and still need time to understand what it means for us.
This is one reason the mountain has become such a meaningful way for me to think about life. We encounter different mountains along the way; some we choose to climb and others we never expected to face. And even when we're sharing an experience with someone else, we're not necessarily navigating the same mountain. My mother was fighting for her life, my father was caring for his wife, and I was their daughter, trying to be there for both while continuing to navigate my own life. We loved one another deeply and lived through the same circumstances, but each of us experienced something different.
I've come to appreciate that reaching a summit doesn't always mean we've finished understanding what the experience has meant to us, either. Sometimes it's on the way down, when the immediate demands have changed, and we have a little more perspective, that we begin to recognize how an experience has affected us. We may discover that our priorities have shifted, that something we once wanted no longer feels quite right, or that we've learned something about ourselves we hadn't noticed while we were busy moving forward.
Looking back on my own experiences with that perspective, I find myself thinking again about the question I asked during my mother's illness. I've come to realize that, even as I wondered whether someone would ask how I was doing, there was another question I wasn't particularly accustomed to asking myself: How am I doing?
Not simply whether I was keeping up with my responsibilities or managing everything that needed to be done, but how I was actually experiencing my life. What was weighing on me, what mattered to me, and whether I was giving myself the same opportunity to be heard and understood that I so naturally wanted to offer the people I loved.
I don't think caring for ourselves requires us to care less about others. If anything, I value that part of myself as much today as I ever have. But I have learned there's room for both, and that sometimes understanding where we are in our own lives begins with giving ourselves permission to ask a question we might find easier to ask someone else.
The Importance of Being Asked
There's something else I've come to appreciate about that question, though: the importance of the person asking it.
When someone takes the time to ask how we're doing because they genuinely care, it can mean a great deal. Not because they're necessarily going to have an answer to whatever we're experiencing, or because we expect them to make things better, but because they're interested in understanding what life looks like from where we're standing. There's a difference between asking someone how they're doing as part of an everyday exchange and making the time to really listen when they answer.
I also know from experience that receiving that kind of care isn't always easy. When you're accustomed to being the listener, the problem solver, or the person others turn to, it can feel unfamiliar to let someone else occupy that role for a while. Sometimes we need a little time to figure out what we want to say, particularly when we've been so busy managing what's happening around us that we haven't fully considered how it's affecting us.
Over the years, I've learned to appreciate the value of having someone walk alongside us during those periods of life. Someone who wants to understand our experience rather than assume they already know what we're going through, who can ask thoughtful questions without deciding what our answers should be, and who recognizes that what matters to one person may be very different from what matters to another.
That understanding has become an important part of how I approach my work through Mountain Awakening. I don't believe everyone arrives at a particular point in life for the same reason, and I certainly don't believe that sharing similar circumstances means we're having the same experience. What I do believe is that it's valuable to understand where we are, consider what matters to us now, and decide how we want to move forward. Sometimes that process begins with a conversation we haven't had before, or with a question we've been reluctant to answer, even to ourselves.
When I think back to that period of my mother's life, I still remember wondering whether someone would ask how I was doing. I also remember how much I loved my parents, how deeply I wanted to be there for them, and how hard it was to acknowledge that the experience was affecting me, too. I wouldn't change that I wanted to care for them, and I don't look back wishing I'd been a different person. But I do appreciate more now the importance of letting myself be cared for, too.
Perhaps that's something worth carrying as we navigate the different mountains in our lives. We can keep showing up for the people we love, taking pride in our responsibilities, and being the capable people we've worked hard to become, while also making room for someone to ask how we're doing, and giving ourselves the chance to answer.
I hope we remember to ask the people in our lives that question, too, and to make the time to listen when they tell us.
And with that, I'd like to ask you something. How are you doing?