I'm Fine

Thanks for asking how I am. I'm fine.

There's no need to drill any deeper.

I could tell you the notifications from the pastoral Whatsapp group are driving me mad. But you'd ask me what was up in the village. And you don't want to know. And I don't really want to think about it again.

I could act like Phil Collins in one of his divorce songs, and say I cry a bit, don't sleep too good. But then you'd put on that pastoral care face and ask what's the problem and recommend yoga or breathing. And I'm breathing already and I don't want fixing. And I don't cry a bit, and I sleep OK. That was just Phil being melodramatic.

I could tell you about the tiredness but then after an hour of your sympathy I'd realise you were draining the energy from me to top up yours in pastoral worthiness. I might wallow in my sadness and support your draining concern. Or I might lose it and accuse you of being one of Revd Rachel Mann's "pastoral vampires" in "The Gospel of Eve". And that would be good for neither of us.

I'd say "I'm getting there." But then you'd wonder "where from?" And "where to"? And instead of it showing I'm vulnerable like everyone else, but things are generally OK, it would once again put the power into your pastoral absorbency, not my agency.

So please don't ask me how I am.

I'm fine.