We only remember things that fit into our self-stories.

Yesterday was one of those days that starts off innocently enough, going along at the mundane pace that some days do, when it completely changed and took me by surprise. In a bad way.

It seemed like all these little bad things kept happening. Not so important. But they kind of piled up on me like canned goods in a grocery bag. And they kept coming. And I just wanted to go home. But I was a trivia with my friends who, though they love me, don't see the upset version of me often enough to know what to do about it. So I texted Jeremy and he promised to call after work to listen.

Not that it is morning, I've decided that I need to focus on the good things about yesterday. Because our memories are only the stories we tell ourselves about our day, our week, our life. And I want the story of yesterday to be a good one.

Those girls at the smoothie place complimented my eyes and my hair. Over and over. And people do that a lot. And I should believe them.

The sun was shining and it was warm and beautiful yesterday.

Rachel's mom said she read my blog and said really nice things to me about it. That was encouraging.

My friends really did try to cheer me up.

Chipotle happened!

Jeremy called and talked to me until I nearly fell asleep.

And even more things too. So it was a good day. Even if I did cry a little.