Remember five years ago, during the first months of COVID when you’d ask someone how they were? The expectation was that no one was “fine.” People who answered that way were met with skepticism, or an invitation to say how they really were doing. And some of the answers went deep.
These days I’m seeing a return to a baseline assumption that things are rough. The good news here is that we are connecting on a more meaningful level, and that people are somewhat freer to talk about their actual feelings and experiences. The bad news is a sense that nothing and no one is truly OK, that “everything is bad.”
Far be it from me to tell anyone how they’re feeling. Your feelings are yours and no one should chastise or argue with you about them.
I am curious though, if we need to – for our own sakes – parse out the difference between “bad” and “difficult.”
A man I really respect told me recently that he’s had lots of difficult days, but hasn’t had a bad day since 1988. I asked him to dive into the difference and he gave me lots of examples of difficult from financial struggles to family members having a hard time to monster sized travel obstacles to health challenges. Then he described what would be a “bad” day, like being in a plane crash or losing your home and all your one-of-a-kind belongings to a house fire.
He reminded me of my mom who used to say “If you’re still breathing, you have choices. You may not like any of them but you have them – pick one and move forward.”
I’m still sussing this out myself, but I think the difference between bad and difficult lies in how far out of your control the problem is and how big the impact on your life. I want to get clearer about this and so I ask you:
What makes the difference for you between a bad day and a difficult day?
I look forward to figuring this out with you!
All my best,
Dr. G
