Yesterday was a rough day. Nothing big, just lots of little annoyances. Well, no -- they were significant annoyances, things that really had every right to bring me down.
One thing happened that, in past years, would have dashed my self-confidence to the pavement. Completely disregarding evidence to the contrary, I would have labeled myself a failure and started seeing conspiracy in the eyes of those around me -- they all think I'm a failure, too. They're all just patronizing me.
Another thing happened that would have made me feel like all my well-laid and profoundly important plans for the day had been shot. I would have been put into a panic that there was no way I could recover from this detour. Everything is downhill from here.
Another thing happened that would have sunk me into the depths of disappointment -- this particular aspect of my life is not going to look like I had planned it, and how dreadfully unbearable! I had it all pictured out a certain way, and now that picture is blown. I trusted this person and they failed me.
A certain personality I had to deal with would have made me feel small . . . ridiculous . . . would have had me question everything I did and would have had me scrambling for their approval . . . and I would have been eaten alive all day at not having earned it.
And after an eventful day with such doings piled on, I would have snapped at my family, grumbled at the messes in the house, and dragged myself to a room by myself with the nearly uncontrollable urge to escape . . . somehow, anyhow. Not necessarily physically, but mentally, using one of various means to, in my mind, leave the present situation that hurts and is completely out of my control and go . . . just some other place. (We all have our favored means of escape, don't we?) Sleep meds were really my friend on those days.
But I wasn't that person yesterday. I experienced each event, moaned a little, and let it go, moving on. I ended the day tired but still standing. And I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm genuinely sleeping better. Maybe (and this is a good possibility) the girls' growing up and being less needy of me relieves a lot of stress. Maybe I've grown emotionally, or spiritually.
I pondered it all for a while but then thought, why does it matter why? I've asked God to help me handle life better -- to grow me up -- to make me the woman he wants me to be to accomplish what he has me to accomplish. Is this not simply an answer to prayer? Why don't I just accept it as such and move on with gratitude instead of incessantly analyzing everything in my life?
Thank you, Lord. Yesterday was a good day.