The Handbook for Bad Days

  Download your thoughts: Quickly write down what’s important.

  Try to insert a moment of silence, if only for five minutes, in which you sit down and do nothing. I swear by meditating in the morning, however briefly.

  Leave your phone and other screens alone for as long as possible. This will help you stick to initiating instead of reacting. Doing this tends to save a lot of energy in the morning. Make up your own mind about what you plan to do before your devices take charge.

  Get dressed with care, and consider what you’ll be needing that day to feel comfortable. I can get really annoyed when I’m forced to just slip on whatever—not because of what other people might say but because my clothes affect my energy.

  I prefer soft fabrics and calm colors whenever I need to concentrate, and I want flouncy dresses when I have something to celebrate. On days when I just pull something from the closet, I feel messier and less focused. And if I can avoid having a bad day by putting on a top without stains and tights that don’t sag, that’s a small price to pay. Balance the outside with the inside.

  // Keep Breathing

   Seems obvious, but read this tip anyway

  Please don’t forget to keep breathing. You might feel cheated when reading a suggestion like this. I mean, it doesn’t require much thought: Breathing is something we do automatically, right? In, out, in, out, all day, every day, and as long as you continue doing it, you’ll stay alive. Taking a breath is the first thing we do when we’re born and the last thing we do before we move on. It really is one of our most basic activities: breathing in, breathing out.

  Yet there is breathing, and then there is breathing. Taking a breath is more than simply making sure your organs are supplied with oxygen.

  As teacher and yogi Max Strom said so beautifully and aptly: “The lungs are the engines of our emotional communication. Through our breath we express how we feel: rushed, excited, tired, or upset.”

  What’s more, your lungs provide a lot more potential than you probably are using right now. Did you know that most people are using not even half of their maximum lung capacity? In general, we take fleeting, shallow breaths and fill our lungs to only one-third of their capacity. Under stress, we tend to breathe even more shallowly, as if we are in a state of alert. Our lungs may contain air, but most of the time, making optimal use of fresh air isn’t something we do automatically. If we aren’t paying attention to our breath, our lungs become more like a partly deflated flamingo floating around at a pool party. Not very festive.

  Have you ever experienced someone who was mildly hysterical? Someone who had completely lost it because of panic, anger, or shock? You may feel an urge to, as they do in the movies, dramatically slap such a person across their face with the flat of your hand. That impulse doesn’t necessarily stem from a theatrical or aggressive personality but is, in fact, very natural: the startling effect of such a blow will leave the other person gasping for air. And that gasp of air is exactly what is needed for them to snap out of the hysteria. The good news is that you may save yourself from having a red mark on your face by simply being more mindful of the way you breathe when you’re overwhelmed or anxious.

  Breathing is about—and, yes, here we go again—balance. It shifts you away from your head and to your body, from the rush to the calmness. Inhale, exhale. That’s how simple it can be to return to the present moment and shake off a lesser day. A calm breath does so many good things for you: Your body can draw in more oxygen to do what it needs to do, your stress level goes down, tension melts into relaxation.

  If you find it hard to use your breathing to achieve calmness and control, there are many courses and workshops that can teach you proper technique—and they are totally worth it. But a simple breathing exercise can be done anywhere, including in the line at the supermarket, in front of a bar, and hidden inside your one-night-stand’s bathroom.

  The first step: Breathe in through your nose. It’s made for the job: The nasal hairs filter out particulate matter, and your nose detects smells, which makes you more aware of your environment and anchors you in the present moment. Of our five senses, we especially like to rely on our sight, hearing, taste, and touch, but smell is an equally important compass.

  Step two is to, little by little, let your breathing go deeper, in a natural tempo. Breathing deeply will make not only your chest swell, because of your air-filled lungs, but also your midriff, flanks, and belly.

  Step three: When exhaling, let the air escape slowly, unforced. If you turn this simple deep-breathing technique into a routine, you’ll notice that it really is a universal tool, one that deserves to be advertised alongside infomercials for magic wonder sponges and miracle veggie slicers.

  A calm breath makes you less easily irritated, less “on,” less restless or nervous. Simply put, you’re more relaxed, more focused and productive, and more pleasant company for others and yourself.

  Davidji, an American meditation teacher, often shares his sixteen-second meditation as an antidote to the “coulda, woulda, shoulda” rumination cycle, which could very well be the mantra of many a bad day. The trick is to take short breaks between inhaling and exhaling, a technique also extolled by other breathing specialists. Those are tiny moments of surrender. The breathing exercise goes like this: Inhale for four seconds and hold that breath for four seconds. Exhale for four seconds and hold that breath for another four seconds. Imagine a lemniscate, also known as the infinity symbol. Outside going inward, inside going outward. It’s simple and effective. Just give it a try.

  // Take a Hot Shower

   Solace, right from your own faucet

  One of the most underestimated home remedies for mitigating a bad day is the shower. You may think that you need at least a full spa day to relax, but however nice it can be to dream of steam cabins and baths filled with rose petals, every household has a shower, and every shower is suitable for soothing the pains of hard days.

  Ask a screenwriter to situate a mental breakdown inside a home, and you can be sure that the bathroom will end on the short list of likely locations. You can already imagine the scene: the actor hunched on the floor, hugging his knees, in solitude. Sinking down on the bathroom floor is a common practice on bad days—the door can be locked, there’s very little else to do there, and the tiles are cool. It is precisely there, where you’re broken, that something will germinate.

  And since you’re in the bathroom anyway, the shower is within (crawling) reach. Sure, the bathtub has a better reputation. We associate it with wellness, relaxation, soaking, and taking time. I’ve spent hours and hours in the bathtub while contemplating life’s big questions. Being enveloped in warm water can be soothing. But don’t disregard the shower. To be honest, I’d even argue that on really bad days the shower is the better choice. It’s the running water. Whatever you rinse off immediately disappears through the drain. After a hot shower, I always instantly feel less gray, less dusty, less meh.

  The sound of running water alone is the most calming and natural sound there is. It’s white noise, a sound that incorporates every conceivable pitch. It calms your brain, which will no longer need to differentiate between various sensory stimuli. There’s a reason New Age stores sell soundtracks of tropical rainstorms, and a shower has more or less the same effect, with the advantage that it’s live.

  Another benefit of taking a shower: It will bring you lucid insights. Because you are just standing there, water trickling down your skin, your conscious and subconscious mind will start flowing. Various scientific research substantiates this: It appears that warm water stimulates the release of dopamine, while also helping your body to relax; as a result, your physical body demands less attention.

  This leads us to the third benefit of taking a shower: It warms your body. You’ll find that many spiritual books advocate taking cold showers, and they do have their benefits. But let’s not forget what warm water can do for you. The warmth stimulates blood circulation, and when the idea of any real exerci
se feels like too much, anything that can promote better oxygen distribution is very welcome. The hot water will relax your muscles and joints, and your pores will open up, allowing you to rinse off the dirt from your body and sweat out anything you don’t need. Taking a shower is a natural tranquilizer for the mind, the body, and the soul. Taking a shower is a wonderful ritual.

  In spiritual practice, water is an essential element, widely regarded as the conduit of energy. Running water restores balance to anything that is out of whack; it calms and purifies. Water symbolizes the emotional life and feelings and is the basis for all life. And it comes from your own faucet.

  The next time you take a shower, try this: Visualize washing off all your worries and seeing them disappear down the drain. Imagine all the negative energy that was hanging around you being scrubbed away. Running water is movement, and movement is change, and change offers possibilities.

  // Crying Is a Form of Detoxing

   I’m a crybaby, but it’s self-care

  And you know what I really crave on a bad day? A serious, dramatic crying fit. It is such a release! Not everyone understands tears. In fact, most people find tears difficult and prefer not to see them. At the sight of tears, people are quick to console, comfort, contextualize, brush off, or look away. Crying is associated with a loss of control; it is considered weak, childish, overly dramatic, or inappropriate. And that makes extensive crying in company, especially at unexpected moments, slightly uncomfortable and a tad embarrassing: “I’m sorry I’m crying, but…” Sound familiar? I think most of us can recognize that moment of bursting into tears and watching the people around you become dismayed and anxious.

  I don’t mean to sound unkind, but men in particular can be totally clueless when it comes to tears; they have no idea how to react. On the one hand, there’s a biological explanation for this: Men have fewer of the hormones associated with tears. And on the other, it’s culturally determined: Boys shouldn’t cry. Generally, men who cry are seen as weak. I like to emphasize the word “generally” because I know quite a few men who do show their emotions. In any case, crying isn’t something we as a society know how to deal with elegantly.

  I often ask myself: Why can’t we just take crying for what it is? Can’t we just all agree that we don’t necessarily need to stop someone from crying with soothing words, hastily fetched glasses of water, and awkward hugs? I would like to make a case for learning how to deal with crying less awkwardly. Just sit down next to someone, wrap an arm around them, and let the tears flow, with deep confidence that they will slow down on their own.

  We humans aren’t made to control our emotions. Tears have a purpose. They show that you need help or support. When you are able to allow and display your vulnerability, you offer the people around you the opportunity to really see you.

  In that sense, hiding your tears reinforces the issue of loneliness: Doesn’t anybody see how I’m feeling? As a matter of fact, no, they don’t. If you’re hiding your feelings, people can’t always intuit them from looking at you. When you don’t show your emotions—and that doesn’t necessarily mean just no crying, of course—and when you repress what you’re feeling, your emotions turn inward. When you don’t cry or find another way to somehow convey your emotions, they morph into stress, depression, or a great many lesser days.

  But aside from what others think or do about crying, once in a while shedding tears can actually be a great solo activity. You can see tears as words or feelings that cannot be articulated: energy from your heart and your body finding its way out. It’s a pure, natural, and powerful way to let go.

  There’s no consensus in the scientific community about the purpose of emotional tears, but one hypothesis is that tears help release stress hormones and that tears contain a chemical that functions as a natural painkiller. Although scientists may not know exactly how this works, I find it a wonderful idea—that our body is a subtle instrument for the soul that helps us express what our logical mind can’t translate into language. Your own body consoling you, the rhythm of a crying fit, the way your body shakes—it’s like the cadence of a mother consoling a baby; it’s how you were rocked when you were still inside your mother’s womb. While you’re crying, you comfort yourself. It’s delightful how our body and soul can work together so self-sufficiently.

  I tear up easily. I cry out of an excess of emotion, out of sadness, frustration, rage, gratitude, compassion, or happiness. I’m not afraid of tears, I don’t try to avoid them, and I’m rarely embarrassed by them either.

  Most of my memories of sobbing are precious. Not because they were so much fun. At the least, they were not the kind of memories you wish were documented in photographs because you would like to revisit them. It’s a different kind of precious. These were intimate moments during which things were marked or transformed, because they were moments of profound processing and, sporadically, of personal growth.

  I remember the time I was heartbroken and crashed at my friends’ place. How, in the middle of the night, I woke up in tears on a mattress on the floor of their study. I remember how I walked over to their bedroom, and how he didn’t seem to find that strange, and how she joined me downstairs and sat with me on the couch in a dark living room, wrapping the two of us in a blanket and rocking me until the tears ran out. No questions asked, no judgment.

  I remember after an intense workout, tears were running down my cheeks at the gym. It wasn’t just the tension in my muscles from the physical workout that was flowing from my body, but also the emotional marathon that I was running in my personal life. I cry during school performances and charity walks and children’s choirs, because the innocence of those cheerfully marching children and their confidence that life is beautiful, good, and fun is so pure.

  I remember the existential tears I shed at the ER when I arrived to learn that my eldest son, six at the time, had been hit by a motorbike: my child. I remember the hot tears of anger and outrage. All the tears I ever cried have drawn my attention to or reminded me of something. In the same way drops of water are like a magnifying glass, tears are too. They show us what is precious, true, and pure.

  There’s a Jewish saying that what soap is to the body, tears are to the soul. Sometimes the tears won’t come. There were times when I knew it had to happen, that a good cry would be a relief, moments when I really went for it, yet without a single tear welling up in my eyes. Not one. All the while there was a lingering feeling inside that something was trying to find its way out. Sound familiar?

  When you need to jump-start a good cry, look for a pleasant spot where you can physically relax—one that is warm, safe. Put on some melodramatic music. Don’t breathe to escape the sadness, but instead breathe toward it. Dive deeper and deeper into the essence of a face, a situation, or a feeling.

  When the tears do appear, keep breathing calmly. Allow your body to do what it needs to do. Perhaps one large tear is all you can muster that day, or perhaps you will achieve an ugly cry—deep sobs and red eyes and all; however it swells, ride out the wave till the end, until you wash up on dry land. Crying fits are never endless, although in the moment one may feel that way. After a time, they ebb away. Crying is an energy shift, like a spiral taking you ever deeper and inward, to the essence, to the core. Follow your tears.

  // Once Around the Block

   Walking is the rhythm of the soul

  I’m not really the outdoorsy type. I don’t own hiking boots or high-tech rain gear or step-counting waistbands. I find being indoors comfortable and warm. Still, I discovered how soul-soothing walking can be on a bad day. Just going from A to B on foot. From my house to the supermarket. Around the block. Or—let’s live a little—a stroll in the park.

  Walking is the rhythm of the soul, I once heard someone say. It’s one of the oldest, most natural, simple, and accessible ways to move from one place to another. Transporting ourselves like that is part of who we are. Our body enjoys the cadence, the steady pace. There’s a reason most pilgrims go
on foot; the activity of walking is like praying.

  Of course, there are also physical health benefits to walking: Your pulse will get into a pleasant rhythm, your lungs will fill up with nice fresh air, and your blood circulation will definitely be better than after five hours of binge-watching Netflix. Numerous health benefits are attributed to hiking. But being outside also literally means you have more space. There’s nothing between you and the sky. It’s very easy to see walking as a metaphor for life itself: finding your way, moving forward, turning corners…

  It took quite some time before I heeded the wisdom to go for a walk on a bad day. Then one day, out of pure restlessness, I changed my comfy socks for sneakers, put on my headphones, and began to cover some serious distances on foot. Today it’s one of my go-to routines when I’m experiencing a lesser day. Walking organizes my thoughts; it has a calming effect on my body, and it soothes my heart. Often a sudden idea or understanding pops into my head while I’m putting one foot in front of the other. There’s nothing to do besides walk; no matter what direction you’re heading in, you have to walk. It’s an activity that creates space for new thoughts.

  The gospel that walking benefits the soul has been proclaimed by spiritual teachers, coaches, and even psychologists for centuries. Thich Nhat Hahn, a Buddhist monk, has written several books on the topic; the documentary about his life is aptly titled Walk with Me. He says: “The true miracle is not walking on water or walking in air, but simply walking on this earth.” When you’re attentive to the everyday things, with each step you take you’ll discover just how miraculous everything is. How miraculously simple.