I had a terrible day last Friday.
Complete with confusion, adrenaline, fear, sadness, shame – the whole package.
And I'm not telling you this to be dramatic or mysterious, but instead to remind you – when you slip into that wormhole-of-a-terrible-day yourself – that you aren't on that journey alone.
We all have brutal days. Or moments. Or experiences.
The kind that leave us feeling shaken and emotionally gutted.
Some we own the responsibility for, others feel like they happened "to" us.
Often it's both.
Either way we can get stuck there or we can get over it.
Get on with it.
After a day or so I got my head back on straight and realized that you know, it wasn't nearly what it might have been.
Really, few things we experience are.
Because even if your day felt like a train wreck, there probably wasn't a real train wreck involved, which would have been way worse.
Most of my hard day isn't something I want to talk about here. It isn't my story to tell, and out of respect for the others involved I won't be more specific.
I will say however that sometimes this life business is a damn rocky ride.
Work can be hard. Marriage can be hard. Mothering can be hard.
Life can be hard.
You hope to do right by your loved ones at every turn.
And usually you get it right.
But sometimes you don't.
And other times you mostly nail it but shit goes haywire anyway.
Either way you'll probably stand in shock or despair now and again, wondering if you made the right choices.
And sometimes you'll know that you didn't.
The truth is, we all have hard days.
Or weeks. Even years.
It's part of this "life" deal.
We also get weeks when we have everything dialed in and we just can't miss.
You're a superstar!
Until you're not.
What made my day hard isn't relevant.
What's relevant is that it's universal.
Pain. Hardship. Fear. Vulnerability. Struggle.
And we have to get through it, because who wants to live there?
So we walk on.
We find healing.
For me, I put away the to-do list.
And I picked up my knitting.
I went to sleep at 8:00 and woke at 7.
I held my children close.
I talked to a few folks who I knew would understand.
And slowly, slowly I'm feeling like myself again.
Because your life and mine will have painful stretches.
Where small or big things go wrong and we have to keep plodding along.
It comes with the job description of being a living, breathing, feeling person.
The best we can do is muster the strength to lift our head and walk on.
And then, when we're ready, we can celebrate all that didn't go haywire this time.
And we'll count our blessings in friends and family; tea and sleep; sunrises and fresh yarn.
We'll notice everything that is just so, right where it should be, right where it is.
And we'll know that we're okay.