What To Do on a Bummed Out Sort of Day, by Susan Lesser

Susan Lesser had to miss the writing circle today (Thursday, January 24). She wrote from home, instead. This is what she came up with. Chances are you will find items on this list that relate to YOU, too!



1. Get up!! Just try it.

2. Breathe, however you can. Even a yawn might count at this point.

3. Get up now, if you haven’t already done it.

4. Wash your face anyway.

5. Brush your teeth anyway.

6. Don”t get dressed yet unless you are planning to put on that new blue cashmere sweater that you have been waiting, waiting, waiting for a chance to wear. But if you have anything you can’t wait to wear, you are not having a genuine, certified Bummed Out Day, so think it over.

7. Make some coffee, or some tea, or some cocoa. Drink it sitting down somewhere comfy, maybe with pillows. Don’t do anything else, just sit there and and sip.

8. Maybe you’d like a shower now, maybe not. Honestly, it’s up to you.

9. Get dressed anyway.

10. Be thankful — for something, anything at all. Maybe because you found some clean underwear even though you didn’t do the laundry yesterday. “Even though” is a good place to start with thankfulness. It seems something is likely to come to mind no matter what. For example — even though the weather is crappy and gray and drizzly and way too cold, we have not had an earthquake this morning. Even though the rosemary plant you were trying to over-winter is decidedly dead, the valiant hibiscus is moderately cheerful and has set a few new buds.

11. Breathe, maybe ten deep breaths, if that’s not too many.

12. Skip the temptation to beat yourself up for not doing that laundry yesterday, not writing those emails, failing to stick to that diet, not going to the health club like you really did mean to before you started poking aimlessly around Facebook for most of the afternoon.

13. Look out the window. See the birds at the feeder, jostling back and forth, perching on the overgrown bush in back, the chickadees, the jays, the raucous crows, and always the cardinals. The red of the cardinals is the richest red of winter, except maybe for the two scarlet amaryllis now blooming in the dining room.

14. Take a break from yourself. Of course you are not the perfect you that you invented some long time ago and continue to shine and polish and make impossible promises to. Remind yourself that’s OK. Forgive yourself for pretending you should take to the dance floor with Perfection as your only partner, Perfection who knows all the dance steps—the Tango, the Samba, the Merengue and the Texas 2-Step. So what if you only know how to slow dance to long-forgotten Ray Coniff tunes and how to do the Bunny Hop. Dance the dance you love.

15. Breathe. Maybe you’d like to sit cross-legged on the floor with your eyes closed. Or not. Just breathe.

16. Do something brave, like trying on the pajamas you bought in Philly more than two weeks ago — in a size Medium. They have been languishing in the bottom of the closet ever since because you can’t stick to any diet, and haven’t lost a single pound, and you will be embarrassed all by yourself if they are too, too, small. Hey! One set is just a wee bit too small, one is a wee bit too big, and one is just perfect. OK!

17. Forgive yourself for pajama cowardice.

18. Listen. Listen to the rat-a-tat-tat of the melting snow as it thrums on the roof outside the window. To the breath of the necessary furnace whispering heat into the room. To the little cat, Eloise, as she runs back and forth through the hall and into the bedroom in frenzied glee. To the silence of the pen on paper except for the staccato beat that comes with the dot of an “i” or the period at the finish of a sentence. To the clock from Provence that calls out the hour with a satisfying baritone ring and then repeats its message thirty seconds later with a second tally of the hours, just in case you still need to know.

19. Breathe, maybe light a candle, maybe not. It is folly to make rules if they are not necessary.

20. Be thankful, just because.