The Cost of “Fine”: What You’re Really Saying When You’re Not Saying Much at All

🍂 Fine Is Not a Season: Letting Go, Like the Leaves

Before you say “I’m fine” again…

How does the phrase go? “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” A quick Amazon search resulted in t-shirts, stickers, mugs, signs, mouse pads, wine glasses, key chains (are you out of breath yet?!) …even a knitted dumpster on fire, with this phrase all for purchase with Prime shipping available on your doorstep tomorrow. And, we all laugh in a "Haha. It's funny because it's true" kind of way, but...beneath the humor and the merch, there’s something real in that phrase, a truth we rarely stop to question.

Lately, I’ve noticed how often the phrase “I’m fine” shows up, spoken by friends, family, clients, and, if I’m honest, from my own mouth. But what does it actually mean because, I hate to break it to you, fine is not a feeling. I’ve decided, it’s a phrase we use without thinking. It is one of the most common answers we give when someone asks, “How are you doing?” Fine can mean: 

• you’re not great, but not terrible,

• you're getting through the day, but not really living in it,

• you're functioning, but not flourishing,

• nothing's falling apart, but nothing feels quite right either,

• you're keeping the peace on the outside, while something unsettling lingers underneath, 

• you're holding it together, but barely holding on.

It allows us to keep moving, stay composed, and avoid slowing down long enough to really feel. We often default to “fine” instead of honest. There is comfort in “fine.” It is familiar. It avoids questions. It avoids risk. It avoids change. 

Maybe it’s the changing season that’s made me start to notice. The air feels different. The trees have begun their quiet work of letting go and there’s a softness in the sky that signals something is shifting. Shifting not just around us, but within us too. I’ve started to wonder if fine is just another way we resist that shift? A holding pattern that feels safe, but keeps us stuck?

In The Gifts of Imperfection, one of my favorite quotes by Brené Brown shows us that “authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we actually are.” I think that’s what fall does so well! It lets go, without apology. It doesn’t cling to green when the season asks it to change. It sheds what’s no longer needed, openly, visibly, and without shame.

What if we’re being invited to do the same?

Absolutely—here’s your original post with Brené Brown’s idea that “incongruent living is exhausting” thoughtfully woven into the section titled “Fine Isn’t the Goal—Wholeness Is.” The addition is smooth, in layman's terms, and keeps the tone emotionally honest and aligned with your message and voice.

🍁 Autumn Doesn’t Apologize for Change

As the air shifts and the trees begin to shed what no longer serves them, I can’t help but notice how nature handles transition. Leaves change color and fall to the ground, not because something is broken, but because something is complete. The trees don’t resist the turning. They trust the cycle. 

People on the other hand, resist change. The resistance to change is like a force pulling us back toward what’s familiar. It keeps things the same, even when something inside us is ready for more. It’s the part of us that pushes back when something new is introduced because the old way feels easier, safer, or simply known.

That’s where fine lives. In the middle. In the familiar. In the pattern that tells us it’s better to stay comfortable than to risk being honest.

But again, trees don’t resist change. They don’t cling to what’s no longer serving them. When the season calls for something new, they shed—gracefully, unapologetically, and without fear of what comes next.

What would it mean to trust change like that? To let go of what’s no longer growing in our lives (habits, roles, expectations, relationships, perfectionism) and trust that it’s making space for something new?

What if change didn’t have to feel like failure? What if it was a natural part of becoming?

🌿 What We Learn From Letting Go

In The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown writes about the courage it takes to live wholeheartedly, to show up in our lives with authenticity, compassion, and connection. She reminds us that:

“Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day.
It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest.
The choice to let our true selves be seen.”

That’s not easy when we’ve been trained to stay “fine.” It’s not easy when the world praises productivity over presence, or when we’re afraid that if we stop pretending, we’ll fall apart.

But letting go of old stories, of perfect appearances, of emotional autopilot is where healing begins.

Letting go makes room for:

• Truth, even if it’s messy

• Rest, even if we’re not “done”

• Change, even if it feels uncertain

• Wholeness, even when we’re still in progress

Absolutely. This is a beautiful section already—adding in insight about vulnerability (especially with a nod to Brené Brown) will enrich it even more, especially in contrast to the emotional hiding that “fine” represents.

Here’s a revised version of your section with Brené Brown’s voice on vulnerability gently woven in. I’ve kept the tone cohesive, made the flow smooth, and added a few subtle transitions to preserve your message while deepening it:

🌱 Fine Isn’t the Goal—Wholeness Is

Let me be clear, saying you’re “fine” isn’t wrong. But… it might be a sign that something deeper is asking for attention. It might mean you’re carrying something heavy, or that you’re waiting for a season to shift.

Like the trees, you don’t need to bloom overnight. You just need to let go of what’s weighing you down, or find someone to help you carry it (for now). You might need space to rest. You deserve the grace to change, gently, honestly, and at your own pace.

Brené Brown also reminds us that “incongruent living is exhausting.” In simpler terms, when your outside doesn’t match your inside, like when you smile while you’re hurting, or say “I’m fine” while you’re barely getting by, it wears you down. It drains your energy. Over time, that kind of pretending adds up to emotional burnout.

That’s where vulnerability comes in, not as weakness, but as a path toward wholeness. Brown defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure,” but also as the birthplace of connection, courage, and change. When we stop performing and start telling the truth, even in small ways, we create room for real support, rest, and growth.

Living more honestly, more congruently, doesn’t mean oversharing or being vulnerable all the time. It just means giving yourself permission to be real. To slow down. To stop performing. To ask what you actually need, instead of defaulting to what you think others want to hear.

Here are a few questions you might sit with as you navigate your own season:

• What am I pretending is “fine” when it’s actually not?

• What would I say if I were being honest?

• What am I holding onto that I’ve outgrown?

• What small truth can I honor today?

❄️ Trusting the Season You’re In

Not all change is visible. Sometimes it looks like stillness, or rest, or pulling back for a while. Like the trees, you might be doing the deep work underground, out of sight, but still becoming.

So if you're not where you want to be yet… that’s okay. 

You’re not behind. You’re in rhythm.
You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

You don’t have to be “fine.”
You just have to be real.

And that, truly, is enough.

If you’re in a season of change and need a place to sort through the shift, I’d be honored to hold that space with you. Let’s get started today. Request an appointment here. 

To check out The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown, visit this link.