How to Enjoy a Bad Day
from the middle of a doozy
Anyone who reads is caught up on how awful everything is, so I won’t regurgitate here. In additional to systemic failures on the planetary, continental, national, state (what in the ever-loving f is this?) and municipal level,* this has been a cosmically crappy week personally for everyone I’ve spoken to. I’m feeling my age, we’re dealing with a… prolonged parenting situation, and today I went out for a run and it started pouring once I was exactly twenty minutes away from my house. I came home drenched, and answered a call from school to pick up one of the kids immediately. So I did. With my clothes, hat, shoes and socks soaked through. And I had to stop by the freezing grocery store, which was out of the good soup.
Judith Viorst, in the canonical Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day—which we reference an unsettling amount around here—tells an adorable story about her third son, Alexander. Yes, that’s his real name.
"The famous klutz story about Alexander is him limping home from school one day and saying 'My knee. My knee. I killed my knee!' I said, 'Oh my god, poor baby. At soccer?' And he said, 'No, story time.'"
So that’s the kind of week it’s been, and I’m writing this on a Wednesday morning.
I have had so many Bad Days, as outlined in the book I wrote about my life. War days, family-murder-news days, house-burning-down days, house-almost-burning down days, almost-dying days. And a lifetime of these days has gifted me a ton of mental games, so that I am mostly able to get through them without falling apart.
First, there is the “basic needs” game, which is as simple as acknowledging that I have current access to food, shelter, clean air and water. There is the “bomb check,” which is asking myself if bombs are falling out of the sky. This leads to the “imminent danger” game, where I clarify whether I am in imminent danger, or just scared of some future danger (I’m usually just scared). There is the the “comic retelling” game, where I call a friend and tell them about something truly horrible and try to make them laugh about it—usually this ends with me laughing, while they gape at me, but whatever. There is the “we live in 1997” game where I avoid all technology that didn’t exist in 1997, because that’s when it started to be stressful. There is the “pretend you didn’t want that” game where I throw out my goals for the day and make up entirely different goals that align with where the day is taking me. I play endless versions of these mind games with myself, and they’re why I am able to pull myself out of the hole when times are bad.
But some days, like today, my brain is tired. Sometimes it does not have the energy for games. And on those days, listing my basic needs—no matter how fortunate I feel to have them—is not nearly enough to get me through. So I feel sorry for myself, at least for an hour or two. Next, I accept that it’s a bad day, and I can’t fight that, I must simply float down the rapids. Then, instead of what I need, ask myself what I want, and how I can thumb the scale against the cosmos. What would balance out this pile of bullsh*t, I think. It’s usually something within reach. Chocolate or potato chips. Dancing, singing, chicken nuggets on the couch. Laughing until I cry, with friends or family. 20% too much cheese. A perfectly timed cocktail. Exploratory train travel (aspirational in LA, but not impossible). Long walks through unfamiliar terrain, post-downpour.
I believe younger people, the ones who created the “little treat economy,” must think it ridiculous that I’m coming to this in my mid-40s, but I’ve always been a late bloomer. And now at my big age, I think they’re really on to something. These kids (they are approx 33-38) were born into a world much less promising than a lot of us were, and they’ve had to figure out their own systems to elbow their way through this mess. I know I wake up every day wondering what we can and should do. But I also know that I can’t do much, if I’m not able to scrape myself off of the ground and into the next day. No matter how hard the media environment is trying, panic doesn’t often work to launch me into purposeful action. Panic fills an engine like fumes do. Gratitude, perspective, and a little chocolate here and there seem to create a cleaner, longer-lasting fuel.
Onward, upward. xo
*The county actually seems to be doing well? Not an oversight!
Recs
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Thank you Priyanka for the shout out! 🧙♀️
PRIYANKA!!!!!!