"Tomorrow is Another Day"

         My internal dialogue all day yesterday ran something like this, “You’re okay. This round of tests, and the additional bite out of our budget, is just one of life’s little obstacles. You’ve handled much worse with ease. You’re okay.”

         I had talked to my doctor, and her calm reassurances that micro calcifications usually end up being benign meant I slept soundly last night.

         Then today started with paying bills. No matter how much money we have coming in, the act of doling it right back out again kicks up my stress level a tad. I ran my calculations for the remainder of the month, decided to go for broke on our attempt to lower levels on a charge card, and freaked when I realized one bill edged higher than I had predicted. I didn’t realize it, but that little stress meter inside clicked up a notch as I ran the numbers.

         A quick run to the bank added to my anxiety, too. My son has always used a savings account. He figures it’s just a step or two harder to get to your money, and thus a little easier to keep money. However, recent events have made it necessary for him to add checking to his account. As we opened this account when my son was seven, both David and I can access it. I told my son that I’d run into the bank and make the changes because I already needed to make a deposit to my account. Of course, I forgot to bring the check I wanted to deposit!

            The littlest things, when you’re balancing too much, trigger tears. One more mishap that I didn’t expect, a chore that still needed to be done, and that forgotten check still sitting on the counter proved too much for me.

            As I dissolved into tears, I retreated to my bedroom because I don’t want Mom to see me cry. She often feels that her needs overburden us, so I try to protect her on the few times I feel life’s overwhelming me. David grabbed the vacuum cleaner to haul to our son’s house (we share a vacuum and all the lawn tools between the two houses) and dashed back to the bank to deposit the forgotten check. When he returned, he fixed everything. I don’t know how, but he’s able to spend a little time with me and point out how nothing’s really that bad. He reminded me of some of our other hurdles that we’ve survived.          

My little bout of tears today means I’ll be fine tomorrow because “after all . . . tomorrow is another day.” 

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“A Bad Mood”

         Do you ever have those days where your heart feels cranky? Where every attempt at a smile distorts into a scowl or a twisted Joker grin? Where you filter every nice word or act of kindness from another person through a stinky film of cynicism, and the end result is FUNK?

         My mood has snapped and snarled at all living beings for the past twenty-four hours, and I have absolutely no excuse for my foul behavior. I survived the last three years of my teaching career mired in the worst situations public schools offer. The parents and students ran the school while a parade of administrators attempted “rescue” and left in shameful defeat, and the faculty clung together in defiant unity. I had plenty of reasons to go into work grumpy. I had plenty of reasons for staying cranky as I blew my ever trusty whistle into the faces of little tyrannical shits (a behavior foreign to me a few years earlier). But now?  

         Within the framework of my mother’s schedule, I can manipulate my own chores. Some days, I schlump around in my nightgown until noon! Although my most recent draft of my novel sits untouched on my desk,  I do manage to scribble a few lines here and there in my spiral notebook, or I slip into my bedroom to type a paragraph. Occasionally, I email a letter to a friend, or take a few moments to read my favorite blogs, or get coins in one of my games. Although I don’t get to leave the house for several days on end, and I don’t get to read like I used to, I have discovered many movies and television shows that I never watched in the past because I didn’t have the time.

 The monotony of my days just cannot explain the level of crabbiness I feel, so I lay blame on the full moon, the pull of the tides, or the unseen ripple in the space-time continuum. Some days, I just can’t muster the energy to play nice. The good thing about falling into a bad mood for no reason? The mood will lift just as easily and inexplicably as it descended.

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman