I had a terrible day.
as my therapist once told me, when I was feeling guilty for my depression, “there is no hierarchy for pain.”
my pain, although it might seem trivial to some, is just as valid as yours. or yours. or yours.
and sometimes we all need our mommies.
Please don’t ask why. Just know it was terrible. And difficult. And stressful. And sad. With a maybe happy ending. And yes, I know people are dying in Darfur, and that even some people who will read this have truly awful things going on, things that make my things look like unicorns and rainbows. And I’m sorry to them, I think about them all the time, and I send good thoughts of unicorns and rainbows. But it was still a hard day for me, and a hard time right now, and I can’t really talk about it.
Also I am at my parents’ house, because I’m almost 22 and still run home to mommy. At least I didn’t ask my dad to sleep in the guest room so I could sleep with her. But only because I’m afraid they’d say no.
A terrible day is relative to the person having it. My terrible day paled to someone else’s, I’m sure. We can’t compare our bad days to one another’s. It’s not a contest. It’s about compassion. I’m sorry your day sucked. I wanted my mommy all day today. Instead, I settled for the scarf she gave me to wrap around myself when she couldn’t be here. Maybe you can break into your mom’s closet and steal a scarf. ;)
