It’s hard to be a decent human being—let alone a glamorous one—when you’re having an awful day. You know those days where you spend 14 hours at work and you still can’t nail down exactly what you accomplished during the day (other than being exhaustively busy.) Those days when everyone needs something from you RIGHT NOW and your boss seems to have “make (insert your name here)’s life as unbearable as possible” and “play mind games at least twice a day” at the top of his agenda. Yeah, that’s kind of how today went.

I was so mad on my drive home that I talked to myself the entire way. Yup, I talk to myself when I am angry. Not like an internal monologue mind you, but out loud where other people can hear (and see) what I’m saying. Well it’s more of a loud whisper, but you get the idea. I rail. I rage. I THUNDER at the person who made me angry (do NOT let me anywhere near a typewriter during one of these periods because I will type angrily as I talk to myself, keys clicking at 95 words per minute).I don’t always realize that I am loudly whispering to myself until some co-worker says “uhh, are you talking to yourself?”

Some days I just want to lie on the bathroom floor, pound my fists and feet against the door and floor (simultaneously), and scream in that crazy high-pitched voice that only 18 month olds can make. I don’t do this, of course, but I desperately want to.

You know the worst part about awful days? The way I react to them. I often wince when I remember my un-glamourous behavior. I wish I could take back the angry words or foot stomping or general frustration that I show, but the Life Rewind Button has yet to be invented. I wish I could be “the bigger person” or “the better person” or “the less emotional one”, or maybe it’s just “the person who doesn’t come off as a lunatic.”  Sadly, I don’t think that’s always the case.

I came into the house tonight still talking to myself. I grabbed a popsicle from the fridge and sat on the back porch to watch the sunset. This is what I saw:

I am a blessed girl. And not because I get to see this view every day, but for, I don’t know, the fact that I’m alive, that I have fully functioning motor skils, that I have a job in this economy, that I have clean water, that I have the right to vote, that I can salsa dance — for an innumerable amount of reasons! But I forget these blessings in the rough and tumble of the daily grind. When my heart rate takes off  and my hands and voice start to shake from being so angry, and my mouth gets ahead of my common sense and brains,  it’s easy to forget the peace that God gives when I sit on my porch like this.  Thankfully, tomorrow is a new day and God’s mercies are new every morning. I’m off to bed now, but I’ll be taking RWE’s advice for tomorrow:

Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.

One Comment on “Talking to Myself Kind of Day

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