Counting a Tough Day as a Win

 

On Sunday, I had one of those days. 

The kind where the voices in my head — the cruel, familiar ones — decided to stage a full-volume takeover. 

“You’re bombing. You’re embarrassing yourself. Everyone else has this figured out but you.” 

It’s a soundtrack I’ve known most of my life. But this time, those old refrains hit extra hard. I was struggling in front of people, fumbling with something that seemed to come easily to everyone else. Embarrassment and shame surged up like a tidal wave. 

Not long after, my body followed suit — my energy crashed, my head pounded, and every muscle felt like it had been hammered. I had a minor meltdown. 

But here’s what’s different now: I have names for a lot of what was happening. I know it’s tied to my neurodivergence — the cocktail of ADHD, depression, anxiety, autism. and other lifelong challenges I’ve only started truly unpacking over the past year. That awareness doesn’t make the moments easier, but it helps me navigate them differently. 

And I kept going. Even though my internal world felt like a battlefield, I still showed up. I finished every task required of me after that crash. Not perfectly. Maybe not well. But I gave what I could, in that moment. And somehow, that matters. I don’t know what the people around me were actually thinking — though my brain was happy to fill in the blanks with the worst possible assumptions. 

“They’re disappointed.” 

“They’re frustrated with you.” 

“They think less of you now.” 

But in reality, everyone around me was kind. Gracious. Patient. Whether or not my challenges made things harder for them, they didn’t let it show. And for that, I’m grateful. 

The next day, as if the universe was sending a little nudge, I read this in a Mark Manson newsletter: 

“If you’re not failing, you’re not learning. 

If you’re not learning, you’re not growing. 

If you’re not growing, you’re not living.” 

It hit me because, yeah — I felt like a failure on Sunday. I know I didn’t deliver what was expected. But I’m also beginning to realize that some of these obstacles are hardwired into the way my brain works. And now that I know that, I can start building strategies and tools to manage them better. 

There will be more tough days. More internal battles. More moments where I’ll convince myself I’ve let everyone down. But maybe those are the moments where growth quietly happens. Where resilience gets built, even when it feels like everything is falling apart. 

So, I’m going to count Sunday as a win. Even if it doesn’t quite feel like one yet.