We all have bad days, but if misfortune is minor and confined to a day, then life is not that bad, writes Marie Murray
"A traffic jam when you're already late
A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break
It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife"
From Ironicby
Alanis Morissette
THERE ARE days when Murphy's Law prevails. That infamous axiom that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong" sometimes asserts itself with centrifugal force so that our ordinary day becomes "one of those days" when one annoyance after another befalls us.
Then the moment we catch our breath and dare to hope that the onslaught of mild misfortune is over, Murphy's variant appears. That is "just when you think that things cannot get any worse, they will" and so they do.
Having "a bad day" is something we all have occasionally. But Murphy makes it worse, because his "law" lends validity to the idea of a perverse universe. It spells it out. It shows us in no uncertain terms that "if anything can go wrong it will," as we become living testament to that maxim.
We know there is no escape from this day: that the sequential will become the compound as serial setbacks thwart every effort to get through the day without further mishap.
We know we must endure to the end of the day, and hope that the consequences of today will not infiltrate tomorrow. For having a bad day is more than a bad day. It is an accumulation of bad experiences all in one day. It shakes our confidence in ourselves. It makes us feel inefficient, ineffective, defenceless and exposed that bad luck is pursuing us so actively.
We are in the throes of it before we realise that not one, but two or more setbacks have already occurred. This confuses. And just to add to the paradoxical ambiguity of a bad day, we describe it as a nightmare day.
But what psychological responses do we have to bad days? While real catastrophes call for one set of reactions, a different skill-set is required when one nuisance after the next occurs.
The emotions that are evoked by big problems versus small problems are also different. Big problems require serious action and reaction. Small problems are less easily articulated. Because when endless little things go wrong and then additional seemingly trivial but practically irritating occurrences take place all in one day, it can be difficult to know whether to laugh or cry.
Of course things never go wrong at the right time. We do not miss the bus when we have time to wait for another. We lose car keys when our journey is most urgent. Bags containing glass bottles burst. The downpour happens halfway between shelters. Flights are delayed when there are connecting flights to catch. We discover the meeting was cancelled when we arrive. The classic analogy of the buttered bread always falling butterside down seems to befall us when Murphy's Law decides to demonstrate itself to us.
For that is Murphy's Law. Jewellery that falls will roll into a drain or down a crevice in the floor. Errors on e-mail will be spotted as the send button is pressed. The missing red sock is found among the whites. Computer systems crash at critical times. The part of the voicemail you cannot hear is the name of the caller or the number to reply. Everything difficult that happens does so at the worst time.
Days that go wrong usually involve missing objects, missing information or both. Keys, phone numbers, receipts, timetables, appointment cards and diaries are high on the list of elusives on a bad day.
Transport (or the absence thereof) often figures prominently. The first upset causes the second misfortune, which leads to the third delay, which destroys the day. The stress increases. We become frazzled. We lose concentration and attention and, in so doing, we open the door for the next mishap.
But if the universe is perverse, there is one consolation. We empathise with each other on a bad day. We have all, at some time, encountered Murphy's Law. We recognise it because we have experienced it.
We have had days when we have coped, days when we have been overwhelmed and days when we have wanted to rewind the day and start afresh. But we also know that we have survived and that if misfortune is minor and confined to a day then life is not bad. Unlike poor Murphy, who tried to pre-empt every negative eventuality by predicting every possible calamity, we retain hope because we do not believe that you must anticipate the worst in order to achieve the best outcome.
mmurray@irish-times.ie
Clinical psychologist and author Marie Murray is director of the Student Counselling Services in UCD