Thursday, April 11, 2013

a bad day

*Cue Daniel Powter song and a violin

You know, it was just one of those days. The kind that doesn’t want to be had. They happen every so often, and when they do, and when you survive them, you wonder if it was really all that bad. It usually isn’t. Regardless, the dense fog of your mood doesn’t want to be lifted. 

During these kinds of days, of course, you usually can’t think of anything but your bed. Or of not talking to people. Or of going into a hermitage and brooding it out real good and pensive-like. That way, maybe you can at least come up with something slightly hipster or artsy and put your bad mood to good use. But life doesn’t really afford you any of these things, not for hours anyway. You have to go to work and do stuff. Or look like you’re doing stuff. You have to not only be around people, but smile at them, talk. Even if asking them about their day is the last thing you care about. Where’s your bed? Where’s your cave? 

You try to simulate fake cave-like status in your office by not turning the lights on and instead basking in the glory of natural light from your massive windows. Maybe some of the sun's brightness will be contagious. You sit back at your desk and soak. You’ve been basking there for 2 minutes when your co-worker, only there on certain days, asks to turn the light on. “Of course, of course,” you say through clenched teeth, grumbling internally, “fluorescent light is much more wonderful than the shining sun outside.” Lunch finally rolls around but your appetite doesn’t seem to. You’re pretty sure the carrots you munched on are old. Your salad is soggy. The coffee from earlier is bitter and stale. You eat at your desk. Then, lunch is over and you are unsatisfied. It’s just one of those days.

Even though the sun is shining. Even though you’ve been productive. Even though you have a meal and general health and a loving family and a job. Even though you have wonderful community and prayer and a roof over your head. It’s just one of those days. So breathe, allowing yourself to have a bad day, allowing yourself to be human. There's no use pretending. Every day is not going to be rainbows and flowers and tears of joy. Admit it. Admit that you're having a bad day. Then be thankful. Because you had another day. And that's better than not having one.