If you inhabit the NMDW (Non Movement Disorder World), please consider what “having a bad day” means to you before continuing.
For those low on imagination: It’s rush hour, you’re running late, 110 degrees in the subway, the lines at the service machines snake all the way to the turnstile. Thank god you remembered your metro card. Scan: “CARD EMPTY.” OK, you brave the line, reload, hear the express train pulling into the station, hit the steps 2 at a time only to reach the platform as the doors close. The next train takes 20 minutes to arrive and promptly gets stuck between stations. Then the AC conks and you’re mired in a collective sticky sweat. When was that meeting? We’d all agree you’re having a “bad day.”
My “bad day” begins before I encounter the sweltering heat in the station or the deficit on my card. Instead, it starts when I’m on the verge of hyperventilation half a block into my 4-block marathon. By the time I reach the subway, I yearn for a nap – a seat would be nice. But I must stand at the top of the stairs, waiting for the crowd to clear and the guy handing out free Metros to move aside so I can grab the railing to avoid falling on my face. On “bad days,” I find myself at war with a severely flexing foot exercising it’s own agenda and mysterious muscles in my legs jarring me with attitude, every step a precarious leap of faith.
Dystonia is a fickle female whose mood banks on stress, anxiety or nothing at all. I take my moments as they greet me, understanding “good” and “bad” are relative events. The pain-in-the-neck days shine a bright light of perspective, cementing my appreciation of the better ones.
Feel free to post your rendition of “Having A Bad Day.” All stories welcome!