You know those days where you feel like you just went flying over the neck of a horse and took down a heavy wooden jump with the force of your entire body in the middle of a competition, and then had to sort of limp out of the ring with enough people watching that you could feel their sympathy eyes?
And then later, at the hospital, after having been driven around the parking lot for 25 hours by your well-meaning father who couldn’t find the emergency room entrance while your arm throbbed in pain, you had to repeat the last time you had your period to at least 5 different employees with clipboards, because menstruation is very clearly relevant to your shoulder which may or may not be detached.
It’s the same kind of day where, after replaying your mistake in your head over and over, followed by the doctor’s words that you will never walk again (which he actually didn’t say at all, it just sounded like that because a bad attitude clogs ears), a nurse walks in to sign you out and she’s followed by thirteen nursing students who stare at you with inquisitive faces, one of whom has a bag of Doritos stuffed into her white coat pocket which for no real reason at all makes you absolutely furious.
It’s the same kind of day as that time down the shore when your cousin pissed you off so you burst into tears and refused to have fun at the water park, even though you love nothing more than Lazy Rivers and water slides. And it’s exactly the same kind of day as it was yesterday, where everything sucked, including sunshine, and you managed to bash each and every one of your toes into something painful.
You know those days?
Yea dude. Me too. It’s called The Funk, and it’s practically impossible to get out of.
A good song can help…if it’s one that you haven’t played on repeat to death. And a snack can help, so long as you’re not also in one of those moods about how nothing seems to fit. I’ve heard exercise can help but when you’re in this mood, the suggestion to “go for a run!” might as well be, “smash your head into glass!”
The good news is that The Funk doesn’t last. In fact sometimes, the best thing to do is let it run it’s course. But because this is a group chat and you guys are not thirteen nursing students staring at me with bags of chips in your white coat pockets, I’d love to hear your suggestions.
Or at the very least, about your bad day.
— Amelia Diamond
Image shot by Lucia Giacani