There are good days, and there are better days. Then there are days that could be better, days that are just okay but not worth repeating, and days that suck. Sometimes, the truly lousy ones even feel scary—like they might set a trend you’re desperate to avoid.
What makes a bad day so draining isn’t just the problems we face, but the weight of the stories we spin around them. Those problems might not be earth-shattering, but they can feel overwhelming because we don’t yet know what they’ll cost us—or who they’ll force us to become.
Some people try to soften the blow by refusing to call a problem a “problem.” They rebrand it as a “challenge” or shrug it off as “just reality,” stuffing down any messy emotions that bubble up.
Here’s my take: Life thrives on intentional semantics. What you name an experience changes how you navigate it. That shift might seem small, but it can be life-changing.
I’m not afraid to say “problem.” In fact, tiptoeing around the word feels like handing it power it doesn’t deserve. That said, I’m no purist. Depending on the day, you’ll hear me call them obstacles, mindfucks, predicaments, nuts to crack, or “Friday afternoons.” Words are tools—use what fits the moment.
The real issue isn’t the label. It’s the baggage we attach to it. Some terms nudge us toward solutions; others drag us into dread. But words alone won’t save you. It’s the stories you tell yourself about those words that matter.
I’ve started framing problems as “growing pains.” Here’s why: The phrase reminds me that meaningful change always comes with friction. That most annoyances are temporary. That the bigger the goal, the louder the critics. And that as long as I keep moving forward—no matter how clumsily—the fog will lift at some point. Allies will emerge. Solutions will materialize. Any pain will—inevitably—go away. Or rather, it will “grow” away.
Resistance isn’t always a sign we’re lost. Often, it’s proof we’re on the right path. I’m not chasing hardship, but when it finds me, I’ll call it what it is: the soreness of growth. No sugarcoating, no self-delusion. Just a reminder to always keep growing.