Four on the Floor

I had a shit day. Not the worst day ever, but not great. The kind of day when you're pretty sure everyone can hear you screaming on the inside, even though you've barely said a word to anyone all day. The kind of day when you think, "Can it be that bad? Have I totally lost it?" I've been having these days more often than not. I think it's a combination of the crappy weather, the holiday season and being sick for the last week. I know I have it better than most. I know I'm blessed every day, from the minute I open my eyes in the morning until I crawl into bed at night. I have my mini mantra "good job, great friends and family, cute apartment, enough money to live and have a little fun, more books than I could ever read." I am grateful to have made it through the last year emotionally, albeit with more than my fair share of tears. But who am I kidding? It's really hard sometimes, this whole "well that's not how I expected things to go at all" feeling that I've had since last spring. I'm not as tough as I think I am or pretend to be. I've exhausted my supply of brave faces and I can't hold back my disappointment at how a lot of the last year went. I'm out of sorts and feeling like more than one of my houses is out of order, which is more than I can handle. Now I'm sitting at home writing this all down instead of going out with my friends because I can't face them like this. Like I said, shit day. And then...

In the mail, tucked under my copy of InStyle magazine featuring a flawless and pregnant Halle Berry, were four reminders that all is not lost. Four, yes, FOUR handwritten thank you notes arrived today. All were on pretty stationery, beautifully written and gentle reminders that I'm a lot less invisible than I think I am. The power of the written word saves me again.