I had today planned out perfectly.
| Time | Plan |
|---|---|
| 8:00 AM - 9:00 AM | Wake up and get ready for work. |
| 9:00 AM - 5:00 PM | Work. |
| 5:00 PM - 5:15 PM | Get excited for a great, productive evening. |
| 5:15 PM - 7:00 PM | Personal projects. |
| 7:00 PM - 8:30 PM | Exercise, shower, and eat dinner. |
| 8:30 PM - 11:00 PM | Personal projects. |
| 11:00 PM - 12:00 AM | Rest and relaxation. |
It did not go as planned. Instead, today looked a little more like…
| Time | What Actually Happened |
|---|---|
| 8:00 AM - 8:15 AM | Snooze my alarm four times. |
| 8:15 AM - 8:30 AM | Check my phone for updates that could've waited until later. |
| 8:30 AM - 9:00 AM | Rush to eat breakfast, get ready for work, and go to work. |
| 9:00 AM - 5:00 PM | Work. |
| 5:00 PM - 5:15 PM | "Wow, I'm really tired," I think on the walk home. A 20-minute nap would be perfect to set me up for a productive evening. |
| 5:15 PM - 7:00 PM | A 105-minute nap is slightly more than 20 minutes (just FYI). |
| 7:00 PM - 7:30 PM | Feel bad about napping, and then scroll on my phone. |
| 7:30 PM - 8:30 PM | Try a new "vibe coding" tool. |
| 8:30 PM - 10:00 PM | Exercise, shower, and eat dinner. |
| 10:00 PM - ? | Write this essay. |
The craziest part is that, yesterday, I worked on my personal projects for nearly three hours. Yesterday, I followed my schedule to a tee. These are near identical days, with totally different outcomes. Days like today remind me of an uncomfortable truth: we’re all publicly perpetuating an unrealistic standard of daily productivity.
Simply put, nobody talks about their bad days.
Instead, we hide them from those that we love, those that we know, and those that we don’t know. In conversation, on social media, on LinkedIn: we show the highlight reel. We hear paraphrased stories cleaned of noise, see snapshots sanitized of any imperfections, and read about achievements rinsed of the struggles, failures, and countless iterations—whose hidden lessons allowed them to come to be.
Beyond the highlight reels lie innumerable hidden days: those that contribute to the whole of our lives, but are never given the light of day. Our human concoction of shame, ego, pride, and limited time means we rarely admit that our days of accomplishment coexist with days of doubt, waste, and indecision.
This epidemic is cyclical and negatively reinforcing. We experience a bad day, see nobody else sharing theirs, and hide ours in response, perpetuating the cycle. Perhaps we conceal these moments because admitting them forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about self-worth, productivity as identity, or the socially constructed pressure to appear effortlessly successful.
You probably recognize this pattern. So, what can you do?
It would be impractical to ask that you publicly post about your bad days. After all, who knows who is watching: your employer, your judgmental friend, or an unknown individual beyond your scope of life that might one day judge you. While one might argue that shame should have no role in this arena, we are human. Deep-rooted survival instincts often magnify our fears, making us freeze at the mere thought of publicly admitting weakness.
Instead, tell someone that you love. Sharing our bad days with someone we trust reveals that these days aren't unique—they're universal. Though perhaps difficult, these conversations offer validation about our human experience and remind us that vulnerability strengthens relationships and lives. Sometimes, just naming the day as it was is enough to take its weight away—and remind us that today doesn’t define tomorrow.
Reclaiming our hidden days begins when we acknowledge that life's greatest hits were built by our worst days just as much as our best ones.