I had a rough week.
Now, I realize that’s relative. I am healthy. I have a savings account. My family is okay. My dog feels better. I am loved. In the worldly way of things, I have nothing to complain about.
But some weeks are hard. This last one was really hard. The kind of hard where your Saturday night ends sitting cross-legged on your bed in a very pretty dress [purple tights and a French-braided bun, too] with your dog next to you, sobbing into the phone as one of your dearest friends sits on the other side of the country and can only say, “I’m so sorry. You’re being tested, that’s for sure.” The kind of hard where you look forward to Monday because at least it’s a new start.
I survived it. But not alone. [Never alone]. For weeks with this kind of hard, we have things that make it better. Things like:
Brunch. Preferably made by your best friend and complete with [but not limited to] muffins, biscuits, vegan quiche, waffles [be careful with the blueberries], fruit, Danish pancakes, mimosas and biscotti.
Brothers. Even better if they walk into scary buildings and through metal detectors with you.
Inappropriate one-liners that you have no business laughing at given your incredibly grumpy mood. But you do anyway.
Best friends. The kind that let brunch go for 4.5 hours.
Coffee. Complemented with cookies.
Yoga. Sweat really is the best cleanser.
Mail from your grandma.
Wild by Cheryl Strayed.
Some Nights by fun.
High school football.
Glitter. On cards, clutches, clothes. Pretty much anywhere you can find it.
“Like starlight crashing through the room, we’ll lose our feathers.
Yes, I know it hurts at first, but it gets better.
It gets better. It gets better.
It gets better. We’ll get better.”
— fun., “It Gets Better”