A terrible day is just a day.
Cue the music to signal wallowing and set the tone for a great disappointment. Did you choose a good anthem? OK here we go. I think Celine Dion “All By Myself“ might cycle here to really set in the loathing. Let’s talk about my bad day.
Currently my desktop has a folder filled with about 10 blogs. I don’t post them though out of fear. I re-read them and think “Who actually cares about this bullshit?” My significant other wonders if I’m off my rocker sharing intimate details of my life. And, honestly, sometimes I wonder that too. What’s the point? I’m still figuring that out. I keep hoping this isn’t an exercise in making it all about me. I keep hoping it resonates for someone to feel less alone.
With that said. Here I am. Whining about me. Ugh.
Anxiety hit me smack in gut in the last 24 hours.
Last night I woke up throughout the evening. I felt sick and unable to settle back to sleep. I considered waking up and washing dishes. But I hate hand washing dishes so I stayed in bed feeling tethered to inaction.
In the morning I woke up and started the typical Monday routine. I made coffee, only to discover I failed to slide the carafe all the way in therefore the hot liquid covered the counter, knife drawer and floor. I told myself mistakes happen. And moved on. I fed the chickens, made the Bear his lunch, and started our everyday drive to school. We listened to NPR and talked about our week.
And then, literally feet from the school entrance lights flashed, I pulled over and I waited for the officer to write me a ticket. The Bear fretted, worried I was about to be a felon, and the entire parent population of the school watched me get my ticket. I didn’t remember speeding. I felt like I was hardly moving. Whatever. It’s a ticket. These things happen. I’ll be ok.
In the midst of this my friend expressed disappointment in me for failing to keep some plans we’d made for this week. She has a right to be upset. So don’t get all mommy wars on this. I totally understood her perspective but could not force my kid to go. He simply was stretched too thin at his other parent’s home. He was advocating he needed to be home.
Perhaps mother’s guilt kept me from telling him he accepted an invitation and must keep his commitment. I take him to meetings after school. I haul him to events. He goes to sitters while I work weekends. He hoped his weekend with his dad might have slowed the pace of the preceding days of our week. It did not. They ran errands, attended sport events, got haircuts, and spent a lot of time in a car. The kid felt stressed. I wanted to honor his intuition. I wanted our friend to still have fun. And the Bear simply might hinder that opportunity. So after making sure he knew he couldn’t change his mind, I cancelled.
But the disappointment hurt our loved ones regardless. And I feel terrible. So the bad day I’m having seems less easy to shake. I can pay a ticket. I can clean up spilled coffee, I can wash clothes and scrub dishes; however, I can’t make someone accept my apology. That’s the thing about being sorry. It’s an action, requires second chances for making it right, and simply doesn’t have to be accepted or enough for someone. And that sucks. It’s just... does.
I manage a lot of circuits in a day. I simultaneously consider needs of clients, coworkers, my child, my blending children, my family out of state, friends, additional jobs, pets, and so on. Sometimes the data gets scrambled. I guess the reason today feels so shitty is I expect the circuits to sync up. Circuit overload occurred instead.
I’m not mad and have no reason to be. I can only blame myself and then do something healthy with the feeling. I don’t make every choice perfectly. In fact, I know I’m flawed. And I’m working really hard to be less flawed: To be kind. To be brave. To be my best self.
And maybe that is the point of blogging for me? Caring or having an avenue to show I care through reflection. I get to demonstrate I value the experiences of hard-earned wisdom. Maybe I exercise vulnerability and compassion through snippets of my life in good faith someone might see we can do this—- Even across social media. I’m not a guru. I’m me. I have a stronger sense of self than ever. Blogging, even about rotten moments, helps me explore that with other folks. Telling you I have hope gives me hope.
Bad days happen. Hard emotions happen. But this isn’t forever. It’s a day in a long series of opportunities to keep practicing skills for growth. I intend to keep practicing and growing. I hope tomorrow feels a touch better. I’ll keep you posted.