It all started with a bad dream.
I woke up in the middle of the night mad about something that didn’t happen in real life. When I finally got up in the morning, I just knew. Today was one of those UGH days. Case in point:
I couldn’t find my house keys, because they were in my son’s pocket across town, and I was running late. UGH 😡
While running around, I dropped my phone somewhere in the huge, open dog park and walked in circles, pinging it on my watch, trying to listen for it. UGH 😡
My street is covered in glitter and toilet paper from a Mardi Gras parade. UGH 😡
FedEx put a heavy, awkward box far away from my porch, so I had to drag it up the icy sidewalk. UGH 😡
And this was all before 10:30 AM! It was going to be a long day.
This type of day comes about once a month and coincides with my face breaking out and my body feeling bloated (this should be pretty obvious). These are the days when minor, normal annoyances become insidious thorns that stick in your shoe. It’s the type of day where activities you normally look forward to become burdensome, and your attitude becomes oppositional. I spent the afternoon at the Art History crash course I’m taking as part of my museum tour guide training. We were covering early 20th-century modern art movements, and I was gripped with a deep, seething irritation at all of these men who are long dead. I was irritated at their misogyny and the way they drove women in their lives to suicide. I was irritated that somewhere, someone had 108 million dollars to spend at a Sotheby’s auction. I was irritated that the teacher kept using PowerPoint animation. I was irritated that we just kept centering Western European art as the only art to exist.
Later, on my longest run of the week, I trudged through the miles scowling. My new shoes were still breaking in, and they were rubbing me weirdly. I got my miles done and went to do a 15-minute Peloton stretch with my favorite instructor. Halfway through, he played Thinkin Bout You by Frank Ocean. Before I knew it, my heart was breaking, and tears were streaming down my face right there in the stretching area at the gym.
If I went into all the reasons that this song breaks me, it would take up too much space. TL;DR, this album came out during a very dark time in my life. While I was flying all over the country, outwardly living an exciting life with so much potential, I would put this album on repeat for every flight. I would always want a window seat, so I could turn towards the view and cry in private. One time, I looked out the plane window and thought, “if this plane goes down, I’d be ok with that.” It’s the closest I’ve ever come to such a dark place, and this soundtrack made me feel like someone else out there—someone so different from me—felt pain too. I still love this album, but when this song comes on, sometimes I wince and pick a different one.
I took a guided meditation about frustration that prompted us to visualize ourselves on a boat with waves crashing down on us. The sky is dark, and it’s terrifying. The waves don’t stop pounding, and so instead of sitting there letting it whomp you, you imagine yourself diving into the water. You have the magical ability to breathe in this visualization, and down there, it’s peaceful and calm, even though you can see the churning of the storm on the surface. I always come back to this when I need to get some distance from the irritation—I am down there swimming with turtles and tropical fish, witnessing the frustration without judgment, just knowing it’s part of the cycle of life.
One of my all-time favorite stories about Jesus happens on a boat in a storm, too. In Mark 4:35-41, Jesus and his disciples have just come from what I imagine was a very tiring day for Jesus, what with all the speaking truth, calling people out, and… you know… healing disease and doing miracles. There’s a huge storm, and yet there’s Jesus, sleeping soundly while everyone else is freaking out.
When Jesus finally wakes up, he just turns to the storm and says, “Peace! Be Still!” Of course, the sea obeys.
There are always going to be UGH days. There will be days when you will have to pull back and witness the frustrations, dive under the surface of the water, and swim with the giant sea turtles. But the most amazing thing is that we have the power within us, because of Jesus, to stare these irritations in the face and say, “Peace! Be Still!” and watch the storm calm on our command.
I drove home and surprised myself by putting that same Frank Ocean song on in the car. I’m not crying on airplanes anymore (unless I am watching a movie), and I prefer the aisle seat these days. I sang that song two times in a row on the way home, attempting the falsetto and everything. I took control of my storm.