Day 8 or My mama never told me that there would be days like this

Some days are marked by their absence of colour and are Taylor-made for staying in bed with the covers over your head.  Today is one of those days.  And the weather and my new dress perfectly accessorize it--cement gray with swooshes of black and darker gray.  Now that's a commitment to accessorizing.  

Listening to Adele's soulful voice on my headphones at full blast is probably not the best idea that I've ever had.  But I have goals.  A couple of short term ones for today: (1) call the pharmaceutical head shrinker as I have been out of and off one of my medications for like three days and (2) just plough through the stacks of work on my desk like an Amish farmer during harvest season.  

And a long term goal courtesy of Mr. Ralph Waldo Emerson:  "Finish every day and be done with it.  You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can.  Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered by your old nonsense."  But how many tomorrows do we have?  Tomorrows are a fungible commodity, and someday, we just run out.   And most of us will never know when we are down to our last one.  And, Mr. Emerson, what to do when so many tomorrows have been squandered and wasted with the same nonsense and absurdities?   What of the todays when you want to curl into a ball like one of those roly poly slugs?

It's her sweet face, dark eyes so like mine, and way that she needs me that keep me here and moving forward.  The knowledge that although her dad loves her with every bit of himself, he is emotionally limited, cannot distinguish jammie tops from school tops, lacks a basic understanding of what matches, and will never ever understand the importance of making sure that she has the cool back pack.  It occured to me in the shower this morning that my mom never taught me to be a mom or a woman.  And I don't want my sweet girl to fumble her way through these things like I did.  I want her to know how special she is, to know like she knows it is Tuesday, to have the confidence never to settle or to compromise herself, to know how to make a perfect dark chocolate, layer cake with dark chocolate frosting from scratch, to love fearlessly and fiercely but to always demand it in return. 

To never squanders her todays.   To know that there will days like this when everyone feels wrong and hopeless.  Where you will wear sunglasses into your office even though there is a noticeable absence of sun and the sky is as dark and cloudy as your soul.  Where it feels like nothing will ever be right or good again, where you feel like giving up and giving into the darkness.   But not to give up or into them, to keep fighting and swimming.   I wish that my mama would have warned me about days like this, how to minimize them, to survive and thrive despite them. 

Song(s) of the day: "My mama told me there'd be days like this" by the Shirelles; "Days like this" by Van Morrison

Inspirations of the day: Ralph Waldo Emerson, my sweet girl