The Defiance of Things Could Be Worse
I’ve always thought that idiom was such bullshit. Of course things could be worse — I could be a homeless heroin-addicted hooker with “Heaven” tatooed on her clit — but I’m not sure that ameliorates anything. I’m still pissed, sad, scared, insert negative adjective. The struggle is real ya’ll.
Except, then I became a military wife and realized that our Armed Forces must have coined that phrase. See, in this microcosm, not only could things be worse, but they will be at some point…without warning…and with serious disregard for your feelings on the matter. “Things could be worse” is not some placating attempt at levity here. It’s the truth.
Never in my life have I tried so hard to honor my own feelings at the same time holding gratitude for things not being worse. It’s a weird limbo. I’ve taken to wearing “GRATEFUL” around the same neck (I only have one) I wear my husband’s dog tags. It reminds me that there’s gratitude in sacrifice. It also reminds me that tears can co-exist with laughter, anger with triumph, fear with strength.
This week, there’s been a lot of could be worse’s. My brand new washing machine didn’t work for five days because the original installation people forgot to turn on the water. That resulted in my lovely friend volunteering to wash my stank ass gym clothes (all I wear now) and my husband’s nasty field uniform because my laundry room hit capacity. BUT, the machine wasn’t broken after all and the second installation guy got some free entertainment out of “fixing it.” My power got turned off because the power company’s phone system was down for FIVE HOURS right when we attempted to pay our transfer fee. They, of course, have no issues cutting off your power with the flip of a remote switch but turning it back on? No, that requires scheduling a human to come out. BUT, I can afford the transfer fee and humans here hop to when an enraged psycho bitch threatens their unborn children. My husband spent five nights away from home just chilling in a hotel on an air base in a resort destination because, apparently, Air Force planes are harder to fix than any other airborne instrument on the planet. BUT, he was safe and we got to Skype thanks to free hotel wifi.
It’s been a shitty week ya’ll. But it most definitely, certainly could have been worse. I’ve self medicated with wine and bourbon (not on the same night — I save that for when it IS worse!). I’ve hibernated and somewhat ignored my friend’s attempts at outreach because I’m holding it together pretty well but their kindness usually is my undoing. And I’ve smiled and laughed, sometimes inappropriately, because when it could be worse but it isn’t, you get a pass for being inappropriate (hopeful face emoji with a probably not side grin that doesn’t exist but should).
I’ve hit rock bottom two times in my life. It was ugly, and I was WAY beyond inappropriate, and I’m not sure it could have gotten worse unless it involved jail, death, or a hairy Italian named “Meatball.” I know that low. So that’s my bar. Is it that bad? Is it likely to get that bad? If the answer is no, then “things could be worse.”
Disclaimer — There’s no relief in “it could be worse.” It solves absolutely nothing. You should be cautious saying it to someone who seems really, really irate. You get those people shots. But, for someone sitting in the suck, being reminded that there’s gratitude parked Indian style right next to them may help. Just a little.
If not, I would strongly suggest hitting the bar and trying gratitude again tomorrow. Defiance can only take so much.
