When Life is Sucky, and You Feel Crappy

I know this is a depressing thing to talk about, but sometimes life really throws something at you that is hard to make sense of.  I remember as a child when I would whine “That’s not fair” about any number of my 10-year-old traumas, my mom would, of course, offer Standard Parent Response #1: “Life’s not fair.”  It really is something we learn early on in life.  Life isn’t fair.  Bad things happen to good people.  Life doesn’t come with any guarantees.

Sometimes the hardest disappointments to deal with, in my opinion, don’t fall into the Big List of D’s: Deaths, Divorces, Disease.  Note, I said the Big D’s aren’t always the hardest to deal with…they are definitely the hardest to get through.  But what do you do with the other disappointments that come up?  Everyone goes through times when they don’t get what they deserve–a raise, a promotion, a job offer, recognition for a job well done.  Maybe your offer on the house of your dreams isn’t accepted.  Or you lose your job, you get dumped, or maybe the guy you thought was really into you turns out to be really into someone else.  People usually aren’t as forgiving about giving you time to deal with these disappointments as they are the “major ones.” But when you pour your heart and soul into something, when you build a dream around a goal and things don’t turn out as planned, it can really hurt.

I hate that feeling of disappointment, and I also hate cliche’s, but one does apply here: time heals all (almost) wounds.  But what do you do in the meantime (you know, the really sucky time)?

I’m no expert on dealing with life’s losses, but I’ve come up with a system that seems to work for me.

Whenever something disappointing happens, I usually declare a mourning period for myself.  Depending on the severity of the disappointment, the mourning period might last an hour, a morning, half a day, or a whole day.   The rule is I can feel sorry for myself for that predetermined amount of time, and then it’s on with life.  If it’s something I’m comfortable talking to people about, I might just tell them, “I’m in mourning until noon because the Ducks just lost the most important game of the season.  I’ll be pleasant again in 2 hours.”

For slightly more severe disappointments, but ones that don’t fall into the 3 D’s, I also try and remember that the first 24 hours are the worst.  Until you can get some rack time to form a barrier between Disappointing Event and Day After Disappointing Event, there’s really no point in trying to be happy.  Just accept that you are going to feel crappy and cancel your evening plans if you really need to.  Sometimes I’ve found that 48 hours is what it really takes to kick it, but unless you’re dealing with a Death, Disease, or Divorce, or something similarly devastating, you need to choose to be happy after the 48-hour point.  I always feel better when I sit down and thank God for the wonderful people and things in my life.  If you have more blessings than disappointments in life, you should have no trouble finding something to be happy about.

Anyway, I had a minor disappointment this week, and I used this little system and it helped me deal.  I thought I would share it with the WOL in hopes that it will help you, too…let me know if it does.

In Defense of Overpriced Restaurant Food

I used to complain about food markup.  But not anymore.  (I’ve heard anecdotally that restaurant food markup is generally around 70 percent, but truthfully I don’t care enough to actually research that figure.  It sounds good to me, so I’m going with it).

Tonight, my husband and I realized we forgot (ever so conveniently) to defrost the turkey carcass in our freezer for the turkey noodle soup I planned to make tonight.  Of course, I immediately identified this as a perfect opportunity to eat out, my favorite alternative to cooking. In light of the rain storm we’ve been blessed with, my mind immediately drifted to warm comfort food–soups, noodly dishes, and the like.  Andrew suggested Italian, and a date night was born.

We both ordered one of the specials, a farfalle pasta dish with shrimp, lobster, plum tomatoes, spinach, and basil.  I think it was around $19 a plate, which sounds a bit steep for pasta, practically the cheapest food ever (although the lobster should account for a few bucks).  But the more I think about it,  the more I am convinced I got a great deal.

Not only did I pay $19 for pasta, but I also got someone else to make it for me, which includes shopping for the food (my least favorite chore) and locating any pricey out-of-season ingredients, like the fresh basil.

The dear chef, bless his heart, also chopped all the smelly garlic, saving my hands from the gross smell.  He also had the fun job of squeezing the lemon juice (also any microscopic cuts or hangnails on my hands from astonishingly acute pain). He also washed all the vegetables (at least I hope he did), which for some reason always stresses me out (did I wash this tomato enough, or will I be paying homage to the porcelain gods later tonight due to a microbe I might have missed?)

And then, when I think of having to boil a lobster alive, well, I’m not PETA activist, but that is one task I’d just rather leave to the professionals.  Crustacean killing is worth at least $5!

Another marvelous thing about buying expensive food? I also buy the cleanup.  I come home and there are no dirty dishes in my sink!  I figure that paying a maid to do dishes and clean the kitchen for half an hour would cost at least $10-15, probably more.

Oh and one of my FAVORITE things about restaurant food is that I don’t have to hunt around for the right plastic container and matching lid to package up my leftovers.  Yes, the dear restaurant workers do that, too.  And sometimes I can even reheat the food in the wonderful disposable container,  maybe even eat out of it, saving me yet another dish to put in the dishwasher.  Now that I think of it, I might even have decent enough aim to launch the empty container into the trash can right here from my couch, without even having to get up!  OK, maybe this is going too far…

I think you get my point by now.  When I go out to a nice restaurant and enjoy an evening out with my hot date, my husband, I’m not just paying $19 for pasta that could’ve been purchased in bulk for 70 cents.  No, I’m paying for a deliciously guilty and calorie-laden experience of laziness, peacefulness, and spare time.  Who wouldn’t trade $19 for that?