Last Tuesday I was in Jamaica, relaxing with wonderful people and a Red Stripe after spending the morning climbing Konoko Falls and the evening swimming in the warm confluence of fresh and salt water beneath the stars, experiencing the magic of Glistening Waters. Last Tuesday was a good Tuesday. I wish I could say the same for the rest.
It’s hard to nail down what it is about Tuesdays that I find so troublesome. They just always seem to bring the doom and gloom. While most people bemoan Mondays, I enjoy the opportunity to ease back into work and the fact that I get to spend the evening at trivia. I go to bed on Monday feeling content. And then I wake up to Tuesday. Bad, stressful, or tiresome things always seem to happen on Tuesdays. Back in 2016 I found out I was getting laid off on a Tuesday. I always find my patience wearing thin on Tuesdays. But maybe it’s just me. Maybe my expectation that Tuesday will be terrible makes it terrible. a self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will.
Case in point, today started off pretty well. The sunshine and temps in the 50s had me all energetic. Jittery, even. After lunch I finally settled into a groove, and then, just when I though I had everything wrapped up, I got a late post to work on and add to 4 or the 6 daily newsletters. No big deal, right? Unexpected things happen all the time. But I was a little salty. And it got the better of me. I got the work done and carried on, but felt the guilt from my momentary lapse into a bad attitude. Then I drove home with that guilt, right into the usual traffic, which just left me feeling exhausted. The tiresome commute coupled with tomorrow’s impending ramp closures (which are to resurface ramps that can’t be more than 10 years old since they were being built during the ENTIRETY of my time in undergrad) and the inevitable backups that will cause had me feeling all sorts of weary.
And so, with that weariness I got home to find my bedroom in shambles.
There was a leak in an apartment below mine or adjacent to mine, or something. The note left on the entry was cryptic. Everything was moved and taken apart and just … left there. And I was angry. I put my room back together and drafted a firey email that I intended to send to my apartment management company. But, I forced myself to wait. If I had learned anything today (and many times in the past, for that matter), the guilt at my snap reactions isn’t worth it. So I took a breath and headed off to yoga.
Thank goodness for yoga. I joined Milwaukee Power Yoga mid-January and wish I had started going much, much sooner. Gregg’s Tuesday night class in particular is a deliciously sweaty kick in the ass. Tonight’s class had us just shy of 103 degrees and with every exhale and drip of sweat I worked on letting go. I worked on letting go of my guilt. I worked on letting go of those angry busts of emotion that can cause me to spiral out of control and to be the worst version of myself. I worked on letting go of the weariness.
And so I came back from class and stepped under the water of my shower feeling a little better. On this Tuesday, I may not feel the same sense wonder, belonging, or contentment that I felt last Tuesday in Jamaica, but I have hope for more Tuesdays like it in the future.
I only need to remember to breathe deep and let go.