The Awful Terrible No-Good Very Bad Day

I woke up this morning aching and bruised.

Again.

Will this feeling ever stop?  I popped a handful of ibuprofen (which has been added to my morning ritual alongside eye cream and coffee).  I go back to the memorization of Oedipus that I passed out while working on last night - fully dressed and all the lights on at 9:30 pm.

Movement class.  *Deep breath*.  Now I know I'm an over achiever.  I know I push myself hard.  But today was one of those days I probably should have been a little kinder to myself instead of a little meaner.  I knew that I had struggled with pulling on the blacks today.  Regardless of my increased activity, they just were fitting a little too tight with lumps and bumps in all the wrong places.  On a day like this in my "normal" life, I would just pull out one of my go-to wrap dresses or a jacket and jeans with high heel boots: something that I knew without a doubt would accentuate the right parts, deemphasize whatever I was feeling insecure about and give me the little boost to get back on with my day.  And then I looked in the mirror.  Between the stress, the hard water, and the unfamiliar products not only has my hair been falling out in clumps, but my skin is getting red and blotchy and broken out.  No makeup is fine when your skin is glowy and gorgeous.  It is something completely different when it is not.  I had nowhere to hide.

Literally.

I was wearing my insecurity like a red flag stuck to the side of my nose.  Oh, that's a pimple?  Awesome.

So, here I am in movement class, punishing my body for being a totally normal and well functioning body.  Sounds reasonable.

After quivering through several rounds of pliés, we went down into the dreaded foot opener (the one where you kneel on your feet with your toes curled under).  After it was done, I broke.  Not just a few tears and a caught breath.  Full on, uncontrollable sobs.

It wasn't even 10:00 am yet.

Oh, this is gonna be a good day.

Sure enough...Voice Class began with a release/relaxation exercise I have struggled with since I first encountered it - some 18 years ago.  Especially given my emotional state, I was incapable of allowing anyone else to control my limbs.  I was desperately hanging on to any semblance of control of anything.

After lunch: Greek Theatre Performance.  I won't go into specifics, but given my propensity to see the grey cloud today instead of the silver lining, I was geared for a criticism that seemed particularly well placed while we were all dripping sweat from exertion and giving (what felt like) all that we could give.

Break time.  Another melt down.

Eyes puffy and bloodshot, I head back to class.  Dammit...I will push through.  We come to the homework exercise that no one quite felt they understood or had a firm grasp on.  I hug my knees to my chest and peer over the tops of my knees...don'tcallonme dont'callonme pleasedon'tcallonme.

"I would really like to hear a female voice try this one....???"

silence.

And inside my head, I hear the tiniest little voice.  'If you are this terrified to get up and try and yes, possibly make a fool of yourself and fail...this is precisely the thing you should jump up and try.'

grrr...I hate you little voice.  I know you're right...

"I'll go"

And I struggled.  Inevitable.  But I didn't die.  And I didn't cry.  And somewhere inside there was a tiny victory over the day.  It got me down.  It got me out of control.  It made me homesick for maybe the first time in my life.  I have always adapted pretty well to new situations and new places.  But with a 6 hour time difference between my friends (and my love) and me - calling up for a heart to heart is an entirely new challenge (especially when I fall asleep while they are still at work).  New food and new people and new bed and new life.  New classes, new challenges, new thoughts, new habits - even the most profoundly brilliant and exciting things can eventually be exhausting.  Especially on a day like this, I long for the comfort of what I know and love.

But my tiny victory over the day was a little beacon.  A flame that might flicker, but cannot be extinguished.  And when I was most alienated, most exhausted, most afraid...it burned bright and allowed me to try anyway.

Awful Terrible No-Good Very Bad Day: 7

Caroline: 1

We'll call it even.