Bad Days

Hello, my name is Anna. And, I am a compulsive overeater.

Just last week, I had someone ask me, “Anna, do you ever have a bad day?” Ironically enough, this someone happens to be a woman that I see nearly ever week in my Overeaters Anonymous meeting. “Well, of COURSE I have bad days!” I professed. I have frustrating days, joyous days, sick days, Mondays, I'm-feeling-blue days, and lots of yesterdays. Everyday, is a being human day. Just recently, in fact, the Universe reminded me repeatedly of just how “human” I really am. Three weeks ago, I washed my deodorant doing laundry. On Monday, I scorched not one, but two pots when cooking oatmeal for breakfast and steaming broccoli for supper. And, last weekend, I passed through the drive-through at Culvers, feeling particularly sorry for myself as I mentally crossed my fingers that a concrete mixer would make me feel just a tiny smidgen better. In my foggy, sad state, I ate the entire damn thing. And, I most certainly justified it all the way up until the plastic cup was scraped clean. (Tell me, what woman doesn't crave ice cream during that time of the month??) Then, I chased it with kettle chips, nearly half a bag, as I watched a spiritually uplifting documentary on Netflix.  The "spiritually uplifting" part being specifically chosen in an attempt to balance out all the ugly, woe-is-me mind chatter.

Photo Credit: Unoriginal Mom

Odd. I wasn't feeling any better.  Nope, natta. In fact, I felt bloated, lazy, and even sorrier for myself. This was clearly a bad day gone badder.

Dang. As much as I wish I didn't have those days, they still find me. Not everyday, but certainly more often than I ever care to admit to myself. In my recovery, I pray the worry and anxiety would be lifted from me and from anyone else who suffers with those triggering feelings. Our vices may manifest in differing ways, but they creep upon us like a burglar lurking in the night – ready to steal our joy, our faith, our hope for recovery and a better, brighter future.

And yet, even though I have bad days, I also have tomorrows. Tomorrows are not a guarantee, but when I am greeted by the sunrise, I see the start of a new day, a fresh beginning to continue to live one day at a time as best as I know how.

Photo Credit: Anna Lucas

It wasn't the first time I had ever been asked if I have bad days. I am generally a very happy, smiley person, so it's no wonder that people might think bad days for me are seemingly non-existent. But, I have them – oh boy, do I have them. And, when they do appear, I do my best. I try to be realistic and optimistic (though every ounce of my being feels ridden with humbuggery). I might journal (cursing like a sailor into the pages) or pray (pissing and moaning and whining and sighing) or just curl up on my futon to watch the latest RedBox chick flick, with a box of tissues and a glass of vino. Sometimes, I think, you just have to just get through the bad days and wait it out until the next sunrise.