Mondays, Bad Days, and Reali-tay…Oh! And a Reminder That You Are Not a Bother
It is Monday. The Monday-ist of Mondays.
My husband has the day off work. Our 3-year-old is supposed to be at her school so we had been looking forward to a breakfast date, just the two of us.
But she wakes up much earlier than usual; she's screaming that her throat hurts, and we know we have to take her to the doctor so instead of spending the morning on a leisurely date, just the two of us, without a toddler, we get to spend it as a family…in an urgent care facility.
And you know how awful those tests are even for adults. We have to hold her down to have her throat swabbed, and she's screaming and fighting and making it so much worse, but there's no convincing a three-year-old that this is for her own good.
The test is positive so we drive to the pharmacy and get her prescribed antibiotics, ten days worth of medication that we all know will take professional-level negotiation powers to convince her to ingest (a skill all parents I suggest be trained in before being sent home with a baby).
But today the negotiations are futile, and she spits the viscous liquid out of her mouth all over herself and the hands trying to feed her the medicine. And she screams because she is now sticky and covered in bubble-gum pink glop and so is her “handwash only” princess costume which we let her wear to the doctor just to get her in the car that morning.
"I WANT TO CHANGE," she screams as she unbuckles herself from her car seat. The adults are still busy cleaning up the aftermath of the first attempt, and now we have to try again, this time having to wrestle her into taking the medicine because she needs to get it in her system.
Miraculously, we convince her but have to hold her mouth closed so she is forced to swallow. She changes her clothes, and we all get back in the car in a huff and head home…battle-weary, hungry, and hopelessly wishing that she still took naps…and I have a migraine to boot.
And that was all before 10 a.m..
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If you're still reading, everything in me wants to apologize to you for making you suffer through that, but I also know that if you kept reading, you're a true friend because no one wants to hear about my bad day…
Or at least that's what I've always thought based on what I've been taught.
Because of this, even with my closest friends, I find myself not wanting to admit that I am having a bad day. And why is that?
Maybe it's because I don't like the idea of making someone else uncomfortable by talking about my own discomfort. Maybe it's because I don't want to be a burden, or maybe it's because, in comparison, my problems really aren't all that bad.
Whatever the reason, when I get the dreaded question of how are you on these days, I find a couple of things can happen when I choose to be honest and say that my day has been less than ideal.
I either feel rejected or like I'm being a bother because they don't seem to want to listen to me complaining (which is usually me projecting).
Or they try to change the subject, crack a joke, play the one-up game, or try to spin it in some positive way (I like to call these the positivity police) all of which invalidate how I am feeling.
Or worse, they ask how they can help…and in the middle of the chaos of those days, it's nearly impossible to find the brain space to tell them how they can help so then I feel bad because they were trying to be a good friend, and I couldn't let them.
So I choose to stay quiet. Keep to myself. Hide from my loved ones. Bite my tongue because I know that I will have a harsh word readily available on days like these.
And if anyone asks me, as good Americans living in The South do, "How y'all doin'?" I answer with the equally expected, "We're doing good. How 'bout you?" It's so common here in The American South, that most of us don't even think about it unless someone points it out. It's used as casually as a hi, hey, or howdy.
This was a reverse-culture-shock moment for us when we moved back to the U.S. after living in Czech Republic for 4 years. We'd gotten used to a different culture where people asked this question sincerely, only if they wanted an honest answer.
And here in North Carolina, "How are you?," is said as the person saying it is actively walking away in the opposite direction like they couldn't care less about the response. To someone not used to our Southern habits or perhaps even to a struggling fellow Southerner, this can be easily misconstrued as flippant and uncaring.
But there are a beautiful few who model well how to ask this question, and make you feel seen and loved. They slow down, look you straight in the eyes, stop everything they are doing while asking, "How are you?" And you hear the real question: "How are you, really?" And you know they are asking for your honest answer without the positive spin.
And I get the impulse to put a positive spin on everything, to keep a positive outlook. It isn't always a bad idea, and even while writing this, I find myself wanting to spin it in a positive direction because I feel like I'm complaining too much.
But I'm not convinced it helps as much as we like to say it does unless we first accept the reality that shit happens, bad days happen.
And just like my impulse to censor myself by removing that word from the previous sentence, I also have to fight the impulse to be positive for the sake of keeping others comfortable.
Maybe you feel this, too, that need to pretend that you never have bad days, but having a bad day or even a string of them and needing to vent to a friend about it doesn't make you a negative person or a party pooper or a curmudgeon or a killjoy or <insert your favorite synonym here>.
It doesn't make you a bother.
If we want to have deeper relationships, the authentic community that so many of us are so desperate for, we have to stop invalidating our bad days and negative emotions; this includes our own AND those of others.
It's time to own our bad days. Accept the reality that we have them, and no amount of positivity is going to change that. Some days just suck.
On this aforementioned difficult day, my husband recognized it even though I had not yet acknowledged it myself. He saw me struggling, and Mr. Fix-it himself, took off that hat for a moment, saying simply, "you're having a bad day, and that's ok." And then proceeded to list the ways in which the day had been difficult.
And having someone else simply validate my struggles while NOT trying to cheer me up brought such release. I felt seen. I felt loved. I felt connection. Being honest about how I was feeling, to myself and others, was key to that release.
Ultimately, I think it comes down to this. None of us wants to be a burden or a bother even to our closest friends and family. And this keeps us in isolation because if we can't share our pain then there's always part of us that is left in isolation. None of us is without pain.
I have bad days. You have bad days. We all do. And that is ok. It's normal. It's life.
When you have those days, be kind to yourself. Try saying something like this:
This day has been hard. Tomorrow is a new one. There's a chance it will be bad, too. But that doesn't make ME bad, and it doesn't mean my whole life is bad.
And then, take the next step. Admittedly, it's the more difficult one but it's oh so important because of the healing that it brings to you and the growth it can bring to your relationships. That next step is calling or texting a friend or your mom or whoever will listen to you without trying to be the positivity police or offer unsolicited advice. On days like this, you need to know more than ever that you're not alone.
It's ok to come out of hiding.
You are never a bother. You are a blessing. Even on your bad days.
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