How are you doing?
When a common question becomes complicated — and why attentive listening matters more than ever.
Judging from a number of conversations I’ve had over the past few months, I suspect I’m not alone in feeling that the question “How are you doing?” is having, as we Minnesotans like to say, an interesting moment.
It’s one of the most common questions we ask each other. We say it in passing at the gym, in the hallway at church, or as we begin conversations with colleagues and acquaintances. Most of the time, we already know the expected answer: “I’m good.” “Busy.” “Hanging in there.”
In many ways, the question functions less as a genuine inquiry and more as a social ritual—a small bridge that helps us acknowledge one another before moving on with the day.
But lately, the question has felt more complicated.
In fact, I’ve had a few people preempt me by saying, quite directly, “Please, don’t ask me how I’m doing!” How did this common pleasantry become such a fraught—and even controversial—part of our everyday speech? What is it about this seemingly simple question that can evoke such strong reactions?
For many of us, the shift began around the time of COVID. When the world feels unsettled—when the news is heavy, when communities feel divided, when uncertainty and grief linger in the air—How are you doing? becomes harder to answer honestly.
The truthful response might include worry, fatigue, grief, or frustration. We may feel overwhelmed by global events, anxious about the future, or simply worn down by the steady stream of difficult news. Yet in most everyday conversations, there isn’t enough time or space to say those things out loud.
So we continue with the social script. We offer a brief, formulaic response and move along with the day. After a while, though, it can feel dissonant to smile and say, “I’m doing all right,” when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Listening, it turns out, can be just as difficult as answering. For those in ministry and nonprofit leadership—people who spend much of their time caring for others, asking good questions, and holding space for difficult stories—this tension can feel especially familiar.
When we ask the question sincerely, we risk hearing something painful or complicated in return. Someone might share a struggle with health, family, work, grief, or fear about the state of the world. At that moment, we may realize we don’t have the time—or the emotional capacity—to listen in the way such an honest answer deserves. And many of us worry we won’t know what to say next.
In that discomfort, we can fall into familiar patterns: rushing to reassure, quickly offering solutions, or gently steering the conversation elsewhere. Without intending to, we end up asking a question we aren’t fully prepared to hear answered.
The question that could open the door to connection sometimes ends up closing it instead. Honest answers are traded for safe ones, and meaningful listening for polite exchanges. We move past each other quickly, even while many of us are quietly carrying more than we show.
But there is another possibility.
What if, from time to time, we asked the question intentionally—and truly meant it? What if we allowed a little more silence after asking, leaving room for a real answer? What if we trusted that we don’t need the perfect response in order to listen well?
Sometimes the most meaningful thing we can offer another person is simply our attention. We can listen without rushing to fix or explain. We can acknowledge what someone shares without trying to tidy it up. We can let another person know their experience matters—and that they don’t have to carry it alone.
I sometimes joke with my regular therapy clients about the difference between the “waiting room answer” and the “office answer” to the question “How are you?” It’s not unusual for us to spend an entire 50–55 minute session unpacking that question and still feel like we’ve only scratched the surface. People are often surprised by how much there is to say once they’re given the space.
Clients will often remark, “Wow, I haven’t really given myself time to process that,” or, “I didn’t realize I felt so strongly about that.”
In my work with leaders through assessments, consulting, and therapy, one of my most consistent recommendations is this: Make sure you have people—ideally more than one—with whom you can be honest about how you’re really doing, and who have the capacity to listen deeply. Those who spend their lives caring for others need spaces where they do not have to be the strong one in the room.
In a restless and uncertain world, genuine attention may be one of the most meaningful ways we care for one another. A simple question, asked with sincerity, can become an opening rather than a formality.
And sometimes the most faithful response to the question “How are you doing?” is simply the willingness to stay present and listen.
