Monday, March 26, 2018
Sometimes it seems as if all things come together to create the not-so-perfect day in such a perfect way. The first pivotal point is that it is a Monday, the day of the week with the worst reputation for trouble. Monday decided to combine its negative forces with an unseasonably cold, gray sky to add to the gloominess of the day. Add these things to a little dose of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) made worse by eight straight mostly rainy weekends and a usual dsh of middle-aged, hormonal moodiness and you have an intense concoction ready to ooze negativity at any second.
I know everyone is not like this. There are those that bounce out of bed to greet any day with happiness, regardless of weather or positioning of the moon. I really don't understand these people. They whistle while they work, smile when no one is looking, and try to spread their sunshine on every gloomy day.
I came in contact with such a soul while working at the pregnancy center years ago. A friend and I jokingly named her June Cleaver because of her polished and perfect appearance. Her good mornings were filled with such sugary-sweetness that they made you want to reach for a salty chip just to get the taste out of your mouth.
I was always suspicious of such positive people, thinking their world could not be so fine as to create their smiling demeanor. I never will forget the day when June’s arms got tired of holding up the heavy mask of perfect pretention. As they crumbled under the weight, she sat alone with me in our break-room. Not a hair out of place, and makeup perfectly applied, June’s smile disappeared. I sat down next to her and gave her a knowing look. She said, “You know there are times when things get to you, and you just don’t feel like helping anyone, in fact you wish someone would help you.”
I was almost disappointed to find that even perfect June Cleaver struggled. Although I knew it was true- that we all did, I had secretly hoped that there might be just one among us that really did have it all together.
I sat for a moment then simply said, “I know.”
We shared a half-hearted smile of well-intentioned, tired women then got up from our places and went on to face the rest of our day.
Since that day, I haven’t believed that I would find a real Miss All-Together anymore than I think that Bigfoot lives in my backyard. I do take comfort in knowing that I am not alone in my moody Mondayness. I will embrace the times when I feel low, knowing that just as Scarlett O’Hara said, “After all, tomorrow is another day.” Things will get better, and at least I’m not having to make a dress from my curtains.
Inspired by the first and latest profile picture fad on Facebook, I decided to pull mine and I felt drawn to tell younger me a few things....
I come from a long line of aging avoiders, so it is inevitable that in the middle of my fifties my anti-aging routine has hit an all-time ...
Twenty-two years ago, I loved having conversations with unknown readers through my written ramblings in my monthly newspaper, The Communit...
A few years ago, I began to notice that a deepening of the lines beside my mouth, some call them marionette lines. It seemed that every ti...