I grew up believing you had to have a reason to feel bad. Something had to have happened. You saw a scary movie. Somebody hurt your feelings. You’re coming down with something. You aren’t taking care of yourself.

But those depressing explanations for feeling bad aren’t necessary when nobody (yourself included) is demanding a reason.

Or you can just say you’re fine, and know that there will be no further interrogation, because it’s always okay to feel okay.

The assumption seemed to be that human beings normally feel good, or at least fine, and only an affliction of some kind, either short- or long-term, could explain why someone would feel bad.

I now try to respond to my moods like I do weather. Day-to-day conditions shift and change, emerging from a web of mostly unseen causes. Each of us has to contend with our own local climate, with its particular norms and extremes. Some get San Diego, some get Newfoundland.

Each type of sky has its own benefits and liabilities, but none of them are “wrong.” We no longer assume rain means we’ve displeased the gods. We don’t (usually) shake our fists at the sky in protest.

And the world does expect reasons. If someone asks you how you’re doing, and you say “Not great,” they will ask why. And you’ll give them an answer, whether you believe it or not.

But we know human moods can fluctuate independent of our circumstances. We’ve all experienced it: your life can seem bright in the morning and bleak that same evening, even if nothing objective has changed.

It’s not that moods and mental states don’t have causes. Presumably there are genetic, neurochemical, and situational factors behind every feeling we have. But those hidden mechanisms don’t always produce a knowable, expressible reason for feeling bad.