Answering "So, How Are You Doing?" at Thanksgiving Without Falling Apart (Or Lying)

In her landmark diary studies from the mid-1990s, University of Virginia psychologist Bella DePaulo found that community members told an average of about one lie a day in everyday face-to-face interactions, while college students averaged closer to two. Most of those lies, DePaulo's research found, weren't dramatic or malicious — they were small social smoothers, the kind that keep conversations moving without friction. "I'm fine" may well be the most common one in the English language, and it gets a heavy workout every Thanksgiving.

If you're bracing for the moment someone leans in over the mashed potatoes and asks, with genuine concern or genuine nosiness, "So — how are you doing, really?" — you are not alone, and you don't have to choose between a flat lie and an emotional overshare. There's a whole middle ground, and it's more useful than either extreme.

Why "I'm Fine" Backfires, Even Though It Works

Sociologist Erving Goffman described social life as a kind of theater, with a "front stage" self we present to the world and a "back stage" self we allow only trusted people to see. Thanksgiving, with its mix of close family, distant relatives, and near-strangers all at one table, is basically a full day of front-stage performance with almost no backstage breaks.

"I'm fine" is the front-stage answer, and it works exactly as intended — it ends the question, moves the conversation along, and protects your privacy from someone who was never entitled to more than a polite response anyway. The problem isn't that "I'm fine" is dishonest in those moments; it's that saying it reflexively, even to people who actually care and could offer real support, quietly reinforces your own isolation. Sociologist Arlie Hochschild's concept of "emotional labor" — the effort of managing your outward emotional display to meet a social expectation — describes exactly what's happening when you perform composure all day, and that labor is exhausting even when it's necessary.

The Social Distance Framework: Honesty Isn't One-Size-Fits-All

The mistake a lot of people make is treating "how honest should I be" as a single decision that applies to everyone at the table. It's actually a series of small decisions, and the right answer changes completely based on your relationship with the person asking.

A useful mental framework: sort the people likely to ask into three rough categories before the day even starts. Close, trusted people (your sister, your best friend, maybe one parent) get more honesty because they can actually hold it and might offer real support. Warm-but-not-close people (a cousin you like but don't confide in, a family friend) get a warmer version of the polite answer — honest in tone, light on detail. Distant or purely curious people (the second cousin you see once a year, the stranger's plus-one) get the fully polite, boundary-holding answer, and that's not rude — it's appropriate.

Deciding this in advance, even loosely, removes a huge amount of in-the-moment pressure. You're not improvising your emotional disclosure level under the stress of a dinner table; you already know roughly what each relationship gets.

Four Answers, Four Depths

Having a few ready-made responses at different depths means you're never caught without something true and comfortable to say. A few worth having in your back pocket:

Level 1 — Polite and closing (for distant or purely curious askers):
"I'm doing okay, thank you for asking! How's your Thanksgiving going?" (Immediately redirects — works almost every time.)

Level 2 — Honest but light (for warm acquaintances):
"It's been an adjustment, honestly, but we're figuring it out. This turkey looks amazing, by the way."

Level 3 — Real but boundaried (for people you trust a bit):
"Some days are genuinely good, some are harder. Today's actually been a good one so far."

Level 4 — Fully honest (for your inner circle only):
"Honestly? It's been a rough season. I don't need advice right now, just someone to sit with me for a minute."

Notice that even the most honest version includes a small instruction ("I don't need advice") — because the people closest to you deserve the truth, but you're still allowed to shape what kind of response you want back.

When Someone Pushes Past the Answer You Gave

Occasionally someone won't take the level of answer you offered and will push for more — "no, but how are you really doing?" This happens most often from people who genuinely care but haven't learned to respect a boundary once it's been (politely) set.

A calm, friendly repeat-and-redirect handles this well: "I really am doing okay — I appreciate you checking on me, though." Said warmly, with a smile, most people accept this the second time. If someone pushes a third time, it's entirely acceptable to be slightly more direct: "I promise I'll come find you if I need to talk more about it — right now I just want to enjoy the day." That sentence does real work: it acknowledges the relationship, sets the boundary, and gives you an exit, all in one breath.

When You Genuinely Don't Know How You're Doing

Sometimes the hardest version of this question isn't managing what to tell other people — it's not having a clear answer even for yourself. Holidays have a way of surfacing complicated, contradictory feelings all at once: genuine joy at a favorite dish, sudden grief over an absent tradition, relief that this year is calmer, guilt about that same relief.

It's completely fine to answer honestly with uncertainty, especially to trusted people: "Honestly, I don't totally know today. Kind of a mixed bag." That answer is true for a lot of people at a lot of tables this time of year, whether they're divorced or not, and saying it out loud often feels like relief rather than vulnerability.

The Real Opportunity: Finding the One or Two People Who Actually Mean It

Underneath the dread of this question is often a smaller, quieter hope: that someone at the table actually means it when they ask — that it's not a script, but real care. Thanksgiving is, in a strange way, a good moment to notice who that person is. It might be a sibling who follows up with a second, quieter question later. It might be the one relative who doesn't ask in front of everyone but pulls you aside instead. It might be a friend who texts the next morning just to check in again.

Give your real answer to that person, even if it's brief. The performance you offer the room is a completely normal, healthy social tool — but the honest answer, offered to the one or two people who actually mean the question, is often the most genuinely supportive moment of the entire day.

Jennifer Johnson — Founder, As She Rebuilds™

Jennifer built As She Rebuilds™ from lived experience navigating divorce — financially, emotionally, and personally. She helps women move from survival mode into stability, clarity, and renewed purpose. Learn more →