Go off script, go on purpose

~ can we park our stock answers long enough to tell truth?

Some mornings, we wake up already reciting our lines …

It’s like we can answer with one eye open, it’s on autopilot 24/7, we react and recite without taking a moment for and kind of thought.

You know the ones.

“How are you?”
“I’m fine.”

“How are things going?”
“Busy, but good.”

“What’s new?”
“Oh, you know, same old.”

These are not answers.

They are passwords that let us pass through the day without being seen.

What if, for one day, we parked that script?

Not forever, not for dramatic effect, just for one ordinary Wednesday.

What if today you and I answered at least one of those questions as fully and truthfully - and presented our word as though we meant it, as though it was true?

Most days, we walk around wearing the same face, the same mask, the same schtick.
It is comfortable. It is efficient. It is also, if we are honest, a little lonely.

Because our stock answers are built for safety, not for connection. They keep us from the awkward pause, the tilted head, and the follow-up question we do not want to answer.

Yet there is another cost that builds up quietly.

When we never let anyone see underneath to look under the hood, we miss the reminder to refresh our view of what is underneath. It’s easier not to look.

We can become very good at being the person we present, while becoming a little less clear/real about the person we actually are.

I am not arguing for radical transparency with strangers in the checkout lane at the grocery store.

Nobody needs a full download of our medical history while they are reaching for their wallet to buy their steak, bread and yogurt.

I am talking about one small script change in one real conversation.

With someone who has earned it.

With someone who might actually notice the difference. Someone who cares, or someone we hope will care …

Picture this.

Someone who knows you asks, “How are you doing, really?”

Your usual line is there, ready to go; “I am fine. Busy, but fine.”

Off the rack.

No tailoring required.

Instead, we could pause. We might feel some tightness in the breath inside our chest.

We hear the hum of the furnace, or the traffic, or the quiet. And then, just this once, you say:

“I am tired, but hopeful.”
Or, “I am worried about money.”
Or, “I feel better than I have in months.”

Not a full confession.

Just an honest sentence that would not have made the cut in our usual performance, that kind; that tiny script change does three things:

• First, it reminds us that your inner life is allowed and deserves to be on the record.
  Not every detail, not with everyone, but some of it, sometimes.

• Second, it gives the other person something real to work with. They can meet you there, or at least recognize that your life is not a stock photo.

• Third, and this is the quiet one, it shifts our own sense of worth. If we allow ourselves to answer honestly, we are saying to ourselves, and to those who matter in our lives, “My reality is not an inconvenience. It belongs in my life.”

There is risk, of course.

Some people will not know what to do with honest answers; they’ll be uncomfortable, and maybe we will be too … but isn’t it worth a try or two to see if we can shift our narrative?

They may change the subject, offer a joke, or retreat to their own scripts.

That is fine.

Not everyone is our audience.

We are not anyone else’s therapist.

But somewhere, for at least one human, our ‘corrected script’ change might be exactly what they needed.

Your slightly more honest answers might be the nudge that encourages someone else to test-drive some more truthful and fulsome statements of their own. And, yes, it’s a little bit scary. It’s a little bit brave. But it’s just a little bit …

Today’s message from me is not about tearing anyone’s life apart or upsetting someone’s expectations or causing them to rewrite their whole story.

Maybe today is more modest. We keep our routines, our obligations, our lists.

But maybe we retire one tired questionable line and replace it with something completely transparent and true.

Off-script, on purpose, just once.

Then see how the day feels.

Tiny edits to the script of a life are still edits to the life itself.