I am having a bad day. Actually, that’s being fairly generous. I am having an awful day. Terrible, even. Oh, who cares. My parents are the only ones reading this. I am having, what feels like, the worst day of my 23-year-old life. Oh, so dramatic. I know. It’s Wednesday, April 10, 2019, and I, Bella Santos, am having such a ~crap~ day.
Feel free to substitute that word with something far more aggressive that I can’t post on the Internet just yet because, as mentioned, my parents are 100% reading this. I know my dad would be shaking his head in disapproval and disappointment if I published profanity on the World Wide Web. Don’t worry, sir. I’m refraining. Considering, but refraining.
Today sucked. I cried. A lot. I cried before I even knew today was going to be the ~crap~ show that it was. I cried when I woke up. I cried when I stubbed my toe on my bed frame. I cried when I took my Smile Direct Club trays out of my mouth because it hurt. Then, the bad day actually started. So crying at work didn’t really come as a shock to me. I hid in a room, though. Because women can’t show weakness in the workplace, right? We’re “too emotional” as is. Screw you if you think I’m gonna show just how in-touch I am with my feelings. HA.
This post isn’t meant to dive into my bad day. No, no. That would just enable whatever right you think you have to judge me. Sharing the details of what made today so ~crappy~ would serve as an opening for you to share advice that I didn’t ask for. So, nope. Not doing that.
Whenever I have, what I define, as a horrific day (yes, I just Googled synonyms for ‘terrible’ because I was running out of other ways of phrasing it), I typically reach out to the same set of people.
Ian (hi, Ian), is one of them. He’s my best friend. He calls me out for being unreasonable, irrational, and quite frankly, unnecessarily ridiculous. We were assessing and dissecting the situation when I told him that I was having “a lot of bad days” recently. As per usual, he reminded me that bad days are normal and can be overcome. True. Very true, Ian. Then, my big ole baby self, absorbed with self-pity in the moment, responded with, “Even when I have good days, they aren’t completely good. It’s like a few good hours in a bad day.“
In the moment, I definitely said that to really emphasize how upset I was. But, as the day progressed, and the moping was put on pause, I kept finding myself revisiting the thought:
A few good hours in a bad day.
I feel like I’m always told to let the good outweigh the bad – to focus on the positives over the negatives. Well, obviously. If I were physically / mentally / emotionally capable of solely paying attention to the things that made me happy, I would absolutely do just that. Shoot, not just me. If human beings, as a whole, were able to do that, I feel like the planet would get very trippy, very fast. No wars. No bad vibes. Not even rivalries in sports. Can you imagine?
But humans, suck. We do. Don’t deny it. It’s fine. I’m a human and I’m aware. We suck. Negatives are just easier to find, see, obsess over. Whatever. It happens.
Shoot, what was the point of this post again?
Sometimes things happen. ~Crap~ hits the fan. Even when you don’t do anything to necessarily deserve it. At least not in this life. I don’t really know what you were doing in your past forms. That’s on you, dude.
I try to remind myself of the positives when I find myself drifting in the negatives. Does that make sense? Count your blessings, as they say. I like to tell myself that things could be worse. Even when I can’t actually imagine a situation being worse. Usually that does the trick, though. So I guess, what I’m trying to say is that, yes, today was bad. Yesterday was bad. The day before yesterday probably wasn’t so great either. Will tomorrow be the same? Eh, don’t want to jinx it.
This post is going to kick-off a new version of my attempt at a blog. Mom, dad, and #loyal friends that were forced to read old blog posts, I’m sure you’ve noticed (or not) that all of my old writing is MIA. I privated those. Way too sappy. No thanks.
I’d like to see how long I can keep up with documenting my [good hours] of the days that I tell myself are bad. I’m fortunate to have the opportunities that I do. I know that my life is not actually as awful as the day-to-day unluckiness may make me believe it to be. So, time to document the good that I know exists. The good that I tend to ignore once the ~crap~ resurfaces.
Today’s good: I woke up. I went to work. I ate fruit snacks. I came home. I called my mom. I have Christmas sheets on my bed.
Note to self: Being sad is okay. Bad days are okay. I am okay. Life could be so much worse. The Phillies could be losing to the Nationals. Oh, wait. They are. As of 9:05 p.m., they are. Top of the 6th, 9-0, Nationals. Oof. But it’s fine. It could be worse. They could be losing to the Mets. GOT EM.
An edit at 9:08 p.m.: Scott Kingery is playing. Suddenly, all feels fine again.