Louisa and Spano liked to joke that my feelings were like elevator floors– they went up and down and up and down and up and down and stopped at many floors over the course of a day. At the height of my EVERYTHING SUCKS view on life, instead of asking how my day was going, they’d ask what elevator floor I was on. Basement was bad, a top floor and I was doing A-OK. You with me?
Monday was sub-basement day. Like think underground tunnels between the Capitol buildings sub-basement. I did not wake up on the right side of the bed. I did not seize the day. My attitude adjustment failed miserably. It was one of THOSE days. A series of small mistakes and oversights at the office– tiny earthquakes that on any other day would have not phased me, one after another or not– unglued me. Every mistake I made, including accidentally wiping my CEO’s iPad, piled up upon one another until I was convinced my ability to do something correctly was lost forever.
I know this all sounds very dramatic, but that was the mindset I found myself in Monday afternoon as I shoveled leftover pizza into my mouth, looked at my supervisor and said, “I am having a no good very bad day.” Then she told me something– something that on any other day would have probably just mildly upset me, but on this very day prompted me to burst into tears. A response to the something that surprised us both.
I cried in the bathroom, I cried in her office, I cried all the way down K Street until I reached Brynn’s office. And then I cried some more– in Brynn’s arms when she hugged, in the restaurant where we had dinner, in my bed when I got home. It was sad, slightly pathetic and also a relief, because sometimes you just have to lose your shit. And I managed to lose my shit all over downtown DC.
I was promised Tuesday would be a better day and despite the puffy eyes and sore throat it was. And then I promised myself today would be better than yesterday and it was. It had been such a long time since I’d had such a horrible no good day, that I almost felt defeated. But then I reminded myself that it can’t really get any worse than crying on a street corner during rush hour, or in a really delicious restaurant that you can’t ever set foot in again. So I guess the only way this week can go is up– to maybe the mezzanine level or some shit.