Are You Ok?

When I was a kid, getting very quiet and sulky was one way to get my mom's attention. She wasn't impressed by much. And her life was full of hard work, family, and she believed in making your own way in life. She didn't suffer fools gladly. She was kind and empathetic, but she also got up, got dressed, ran a comb through her hair, nearly every day of her life. Even through a half dozen or more rough battles with cancer. And expected all of us to do the same when faced with challenges.

I was the youngest of five, so as long as I was relatively safe, clean, fed, and didn't have a temperature, I was good to go. And if I was sad, frustrated, or mad, an aspirin was my mom's go-to. "Take an aspirin, wash your face, and get moving. You'll be better in no time!"

I, however, am hypersensitive, and I carry an uncanny ability to pick up on when someone is feeling down. Or struggling with an issue. Or feeling uncomfortable. And I have always had to fight the urge to step in and "fix" it for them.

Over the past 25 years of getting to know and understand myself and how I show up in relationship, I have come to know that with self-awareness, most people have the ability within themselves to resolve uncomfortable feelings. And that in the discomfort, there is so much to learn about what makes each of us who we are.

However, last week I was put to the test.

My son-in-law, daughter, and grandkids came to visit us for a week. Quarters were cramped, we were all out of the comfort of our daily routines, and for my daughter and especially my son-in-law, it was the first downtime they'd had in a few years of creating a home and raising kids. My partner, who came from a very small family and had no children of her own, is very accustomed to her environment being predictable.

And so for me, my old pattern of wanting to make sure everyone is as happy as possible and delighted with each moment came out of thin air and bit me on the backside.

After about three days of family moments, happy times, disappointment, overtired kids and adults, new patterns to adjust to, and deciding how to spend time in ways that please the majority, my son-in-law said that he was a bit tired of me asking him, "Are you okay?" and "Is anything the matter?"

Then the other adults reinforced this message by saying that yes, it had become tiring and nothing is "the matter."

I was able to hear this feedback, and yet, I still wanted to ask the question whenever I saw anyone sitting quietly, taking a moment for themselves, or wanting to lie down for a rest. What I saw was someone who potentially wasn't as happy as I wanted them to be. And that somehow it is my job to remedy it for them.

But why do I want reassurance that everyone is happy? Especially when being happy all the time just isn’t feasible or even a real measurement of enjoyment.

Well, this is the tricky part of being human.

I wanted everyone to show up in ways that showed me they were happy—not for them, but for me. I wanted the reinforcement that seeing me and being with me brings joy.

And that, right there, is the work that belongs to me alone.

My discomfort with their quiet moments, their need for rest, their processing time—that was mine to sit with. Not theirs to soothe. When I kept asking "Are you okay?" what I was really saying was, "Please tell me I'm okay. Please tell me I'm enough. Please show me you're happy so I can stop feeling anxious."

The irony is thick. Here I was, someone who believes deeply in letting people work through their own discomfort, robbing them of their right to simply be tired, or quiet, or just existing without performance. All because I couldn't sit with my own need for validation.

So I stopped asking. And you know what happened? Nothing catastrophic. People rested when they needed to rest. They smiled when they felt like smiling. They asked for what they needed.

And I had to do the harder thing—I had to ask myself, "Am I okay?"

The truth is, I was anxious. I was worried that a less-than-perfect visit meant I was failing as a host, a mother, a grandmother, a partner. I was exhausted from trying to orchestrate everyone's happiness instead of just being present. And once I named that, once I owned that those were my feelings to work through, I could actually show up differently.

The rest of the visit, when I felt that familiar urge to check on everyone's emotional temperature, I checked in with myself instead. What am I feeling right now? What do I need? Sometimes the answer was a walk. Sometimes it was to sit quietly myself. Sometimes it was to simply trust that the people I love are capable of managing their own inner worlds.

My mom had it half right. Get up, get dressed, keep moving. But what she didn't teach me—maybe because she didn't know it herself—is that sometimes the most important work we do is internal. It's asking ourselves the questions we're so quick to ask others. It's tending to our own needs with the same urgency we bring to everyone else's.

So here's what I'm learning: Other people's quiet doesn't require my intervention. Their rest isn't a referendum on my worthiness. And my job isn't to ensure everyone around me is happy all the time—my job is to notice when I'm not, and to do something about that.

Because when I stop monitoring everyone else's happiness and start paying attention to my own, something shifts. I become less anxious. More present. Better company, actually. And I give the people I love the gift my mother unknowingly gave me—the space to figure out their own way forward, even when it's uncomfortable.

Are you okay? It's still a valid question. But these days, I'm learning to ask it of myself first.

The Ripple Effect of Self-Awareness

Here's what I've discovered: This work—this practice of turning inward first—doesn't just make me a better host or mother. It makes me better at every role I play. As a partner, I'm more present and less reactive. As a friend, I can listen without needing to fix. As a colleague or boss, I can hold space for others' struggles without taking them on as my own. As a sibling, I can show up with less baggage and more authenticity. And as a community member, I contribute from a place of fullness rather than depletion.

The truth is, we can't be truly valuable in any of our roles when we're running on empty, constantly scanning the room for everyone else's emotional state while ignoring our own. We think we're being selfless, but really, we're just outsourcing our own well-being to everyone around us. And that's not fair to anyone.

Self-awareness isn't selfish. It's the foundation for everything else. When we know what we're feeling, when we can name our needs and tend to them, we stop leaking our anxiety onto the people we care about. We stop asking others to manage our emotions for us. We show up clearer, calmer, and more capable of genuine connection.

And the beautiful thing? When we do this work for ourselves, we give permission for others to do the same. We create spaces where people can be honest about their struggles without fear of being fixed or managed. We build relationships and teams and communities where emotional honesty is valued and everyone's inner work is respected.

This is the work I'm most passionate about—helping individuals and teams develop the self-awareness that allows them to show up more fully in all their roles. Through coaching and consulting, I support people in learning to ask themselves the hard questions first, to sit with their own discomfort, and to build the emotional awareness that makes everything else possible.

Because at the end of the day, the best gift we can give the people in our lives—whether they're family members, colleagues, employees, or friends—is our own emotional well-being. Not our constant checking. Not our fixing. But our presence, grounded in the knowledge that we've done our own work first.

So, are you okay?

It's a question worth asking. Just remember to ask yourself before you ask anyone else.

If you're ready to deepen your own self-awareness and show up more effectively in all your roles, I'd love to support you. I provide coaching and consulting for individuals and teams who are committed to doing this important inner work.