The Worst Day of Her Life (Or Was It?)

As I was on the bus heading to work this evening I found myself behind a woman who was on the phone from the moment she boarded the bus to the moment she departed. All three of her conversations were extremely negative and full of complaints. I found myself getting increasingly more and more frustrated by her, partially because of her shrill voice, but mostly because of the nature of her conversations. During the longest conversation, all about something that happened at work, she kept saying she wanted to die and she might as well just commit suicide it was so bad. She was not serious, just being ridiculously over dramatic in conveying to whomever she was speaking to that this had been the worst day of her life. The worst day of her life was caused by a new assistant accidentally sending something to the printers before it was truly ready and her winding up with a very large number of catalogs and pamphlets that were useless.

This woman got me thinking about the worst day of my life. Truth be told, I have thought I have had several. In realty, I am still here. I am okay. I am able to love and be loved. I am able to engage in things that make me happy. So clearly, the worst days of my life were not so bad. Sure, I could line up my days one by one from best to worst, but what is the point? We all have good days and bad days. We all have the choice to choose how we let those days effect us, or not effect us. We can be negative, like the woman on the bus, or we can find the lessons we are meant to learn and move on. Maybe this woman did have a bad day, but I also learned that she has three people in her life that call for an, “I love you” at the end of a phone conversation, a dog she adores, and someone who cares enough about her to drive into midtown Manhattan during weekday rush hour to pick her up at someone’s office. With all of the problems in the world, money lost at the printers and a bunch of extra catalogs and pamphlets lying around don’t qualify as making the cut for someone’s worst day, in my opinion.


About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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