I’m a pretty cheery girl. I smile a lot, I laugh a lot, I love a lot, my life is pretty sweet. I wake up with a smile and a prayer. You will rarely, if at all, ever hear me complain about anything in my life. I’m happy, period. Dammit. And then there was that day I had a bad day. And then one day, whammo, out of nowhere, I had a really shitty fucking day. Thank God I remembered this life lesson from last time this happened.
So what the fuck happened there anyway?
It started out like any other day. Smile, gratitude words, bedside morning prayers, coffee, etc. Yup, just like any day. Within half an hour I was frowning, scowling and in tears. I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. Within half an hour I wanted my life to go away and return as someone else’s. Someone who had an easy life. I was tired of everything, anything and nothing.
I was having a bad day. A really fucking bad day.
Whoa, wait, what the hell?
I woke up that day and within half an hour I was the Spawn of Satan. I was fucking pissed off and cranky but the part that pissed me off the most was I had no idea why this was happening. No triggers, no warnings, nothing. It’s like someone just flipped a bitch switch and forgot to tell me.
I sat in my journalling chair and cried. I felt sorry for myself (why, I have no idea but I did) and cried. I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and I had no clue why it was there. I sat there and cried and tried to figure out what was going on. Why on earth am I so gloomy? This bad day was wreaking havoc on me.
No answers came. I had nothing. I grabbed my iPad and selected my favourite channel on YouTube, Abraham Hicks. I sat and listened to 15 minutes of a rampage that would have normally lit a fire under my ass. Today? Nothing. I just cried.
I journalled, I had coffee, I did my Wednesday Livestream, sat at my computer did a wee bit of work and realized I was growing increasingly frustrated. I just wasn’t in the zone. I couldn’t do any of it nor did I want to. I shut down the computer and did the one thing that I know always cheers me up. The one thing that no matter how fucking pissed off, sad or distraught I am, always manages to cheer me up.
I grabbed my purse and ran out the door. My therapy? Take a walk down to the lake.
Sounds simple and normal enough doesn’t it? It is but it isn’t. You see, here in Guatemala, a walk down the street, any street, holds magical blessings.
This is what I see.
When I leave my house, I walk past…
- poor single moms with their children by their side, with big smiles on their faces
- the happy drunk guy singing at the top of his lungs in front of some storefront stereo
- the other drunk guy who’s not so happy, passed out cold on the side of the street
- the many street vendors who sit at their booths all damned day and always have a smile and a warm greeting for me
- the shoe shine boys who are always happy to see me ’cause they know there is chicken and french fries involved
- the dude who I’m sure is the town drug dealer who is also always happy to see me (why I’m still not so sure but, does it matter?)
- the many kids in my laneway who see me coming a mile away and run to me like they are trying out for the Olympics, because they know I have candy in my purse, and maul me with hugs
- the new puppies 20 feet from my door that have cute little waggy tails and think I have food for them (I never do)
- the street food cart man who lives in my laneway who also is always happy to see me and has the biggest smile I have ever seen
Yes I see all this and then some before I even get close to the lake. When I finally make it to the lake all my cares and woes are gone. I’ve been hugged, greeted by kids, street food cart man, drug dealer, been entertained by the drunk guy, had a wake up call courtesy of the other drunk guy, fed young boys and been smiled at more people than I ever have been in my whole life in half an hour. And to top it all off, it’s sunny and warm.
The days I have bad days.
All I have to do is walk out my door. This town has magic in it. It’s in the air, it’s in the people, it’s all around me. The love, the warmth, the sincerity, the innocence. It opens my eyes to how truly blessed my life really is.
And suddenly, I’m happy Iva again. Just as quickly as it started is as fast as it’s over. And I thank God, for this magically wonderfully beautiful life I have.
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But really, why is the drug dealer always so happy to see me?
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Peace and Love