I’ve decided that “I’m hanging in there,” is the most depressing answer possible to “How ya doing?”.

Consider, you have the “I’m doing great!” people, who are depressing in their own right, but that’s just the darkly comedic side of me talking. Then, you have the people who’s house just burned down, or they got in their 4th car accident in 3 months (hmm, those sound familiar), and though they have gone through potentially depressing situations, the fact that they are able to complain about them, and voice them, proves that the situations are aberrant and temporary. Susie hasn’t accepted that her fate is that of a person who’s house has burned down. She’s going to bitch about it until she’s back on her feet.

But then there’s the “hanging in there”. There is grim acceptance in that phrase. There is no expectation of improvement, nor the means to do so. There is resignation. There is defeat. There is, if their is a positive spin to put on it, the just-barely strength in the statement to Death it’s suicide, but that’s about it.

Last week, I replied “Meh, I’m hanging in there,” when asked what was up. Hopefully, the fact that I’m complaining about it now means that there’s still some fight left in me.