It was starting to look like one of those days. You know the kind…do I have to spell it out? (As a matter of fact, I have— right here.) That time was more positive and philosophical; this bad day was threatening to totally take me down. It began with a stunned disbelief that my plan to get up early and focus on my freelance writing gig was immediately ambushed by my computer. I got all settled in with my coffee and gusto and when I turned on the computer it did nothing. Blank screen, uncooperative “on” light. I did the only thing any sane person would do: I cried.
But only for about 15 minutes. “Ah-ha!” I crowed, “I have my iPad! I’ll work on that! Take that, bad day!” And I tried to turn that son-of-a-gun around by starting this essay. I got through my preliminary rough draft and figured I’d better save it before some other catastrophe showed up to derail me and this happened . . .
Like five times.
I was trying . . . really trying. If you’ve been following along, you know our family is in the thick of a cancer journey—wait, journey makes it sound like we’re engaging in some creative self-improvement process or a embarking on a cross country road trip and there will be treats and photo ops. This is a treacherous slog into unknown territory, which is likely to change at any moment. It’s the Fire Swamp with no Westley. It’s Hannibal’s march across the Alps with no elephants. Ironically, we’d just gotten some--news. I can’t fully commit to it being “good” news, because it’s still metastatic breast cancer (MBC) and Annie will have it for the rest of her life. But it does look like some of it had “cleared” which makes it sound like she had a case of acne. But these are the terms they use and it’s all we’ve got. So, I really should have been having a good day, shouldn’t I have?
I want to believe with all my heart in any good--or mostly good--news we get, but I guess even good days can be hard. And I proved that by having this very bad day. So I ditched trying to do anything productive and stayed away from most of the other electronics and appliances (although I might have broken the washing machine, too) and flung myself on the sofa and scrolled through Instagram. And saw this:
Dammit.
And then this came up . . . (if you don’t like the word fuck, then don’t click on the link)
It’s weird that all these posts came up in my feed isn’t it? Anyway, in short, this guy was telling me that “when you have a bad day, give up. Go home and sleep” because “not every bad day can become a good day.” So, although I appreciated the positivity of the first one (and tucked it away for another day), I ended up going all in with the 2nd one, because you know what? I didn’t feel like turning my frown upside down. I didn’t want anyone to cheer me up or make me feel better. I pushed that thought away because I just wanted to sit with the misery, thank you very much. If you know me, you probably know I can’t delete that Pollyanna chip installed in my brain if I tried, but this bad day just wouldn’t be denied.
And there are just going to be bad days, aren’t there? No matter how much we try to be positive and see the bright side or whatever schlocky thing someone has the nerve to say to us, some days are bad. Especially now, especially going forward. Like everything--I guess--I need to learn to be okay with the bad days. I should just go ahead and cry or stomp my feet or eat ice cream or go back to bed and pull the covers over my head. We don’t have bad days for no reason, right? All of our experience is information; all the days inform our decisions about the next day, and the next day, and the next.
So, I’m heading under the covers now. See you next week.
As always your posts are an inspiration of hope and humor. Thank you for showing the way, how grace under pressure works.
I love the way you take whatever you are experiencing, grab on to it, play with it, turn it around and WRITE ABOUT IT ! ! ❤️