Day 379: I’m a loser

Yes, I confess. I’m a loser.

You may think I am guilty, right now, of the cognitive distortion of labeling, as follows:

Labeling or Name-calling.

We generate negative global judgments based on little evidence. Instead of accepting errors as inevitable, we attach an unhealthy label to ourselves or others. For example, you make a mistake and call yourself a “loser,” a “failure”, or an “idiot.” Labels are not only self-defeating, they are irrational, simplistic, and untrue. Human beings are complex and fallible, and in truth cannot be reduced to a label. Consider this: we all breathe, but would it make sense to refer to ourselves as “Breathers”? *

And perhaps I have used that distortion, about myself. But I want to be clear about what kind of loser I mean, today.

A glove loser.

It seems like there is always something I am losing (or fear I’m losing). These days, it’s those things that protect me from the cold, namely scarves, gloves, and hats.

So far, this season, I have (apparently) lost the wonderful scarf I bought a few months ago — to prepare myself physically and emotionally for the coming winter season — at Urban Outfitters in Cambridge (which I wrote about here).**

Yesterday, after I finished the morning’s blog post, I was scrambling, more than usual, to get ready for work. The reasons for the increased scramble level?  The temperature was allegedly going to turn warm, despite a chilly start. So, deciding on the appropriate outer attire was more of a challenge than usual.  I chose a lighter coat, and checked the pockets for gloves. To my dismay, there was only one. Here is that lone glove:


This was particularly distressing because of my feelings about those gloves. I like them, very much. Also, I was wearing those gloves when I first met my boyfriend, and in the email he sent me after our first meeting, he singled them out, in his expressed appreciation of our encounter.

Yes, I felt sad, upon seeing that lone, solitary glove.  Based on past experiences being a loser, I knew there was a good chance its partner would never be found.

I had mixed feelings — worried that I had finally lost one of these precious gloves, but with some hope the glove would be found.

What did I base that hope on? A lot of data, actually. Not only have I had several false alarms — over the years —  about losing one of those cool gloves, but I’ve had many experiences of fearing I’d lost something, only to find it again.

Yesterday, after locating another pair of favorite gloves — bright red ones! — I set off to work, letting go of fear and sadness. And those red gloves kept me nicely warm, during the (surprisingly) cold walk to the hospital.

And I had a good day, doing work I love.

At the end of the day, as I prepared to venture out — into much warmer weather than I had encountered that morning — I looked for my gloves in their usual residing place — my coat pockets.

And there was only one red glove, to be found.  WHAT? I thought.  How can that be?

That is my usual response, when I  first find that I’ve lost something.

WHAT?  How can that be?

And, more so than with the first lost glove, this latest loss seemed  …. inconceivable.

I thought, “How could I have possibly lost ANOTHER FAVORITE glove, in one day?” I retraced my steps, mentally, as advised when you lose something.  I knew I had worn them until I entered the hospital. I knew I had entered the hospital through the main entrance, which is a five-minute walk away from where I work.***

My conclusion was this: the glove HAD to be in the hospital. Before I left the hospital to return home, I checked with a couple of lost-and-found locations. Nada. Other lost gloves had been turned in****, but not a red one, like this:


Ah, well.

Now, I must prepare to leave the house to return to work.

Maybe I’ll find that glove today. And who knows?  Maybe I’ll find the other, more beloved, glove, too.  They’re both out there, somewhere.  I know that.

For now, it’s warm enough to venture out gloveless, today.

And if***** it turns cold again?


Thank goodness, those two are still together.

Thanks to losers everywhere and to you — of course! — for visiting today.

  1. See here for more definitions of cognitive distortions.

  2.  Alas, I did not capture this beauteous scarf in a photo, nor is it available to view online. However, I still recommend visiting that post where I got it, especially since it includes a guy wearing a bear coat!

  3.  Sometimes I deliberately walk through the interior of the hospital, so I can repeat a helpful mantra to myself: ” You are not a patient at this hospital. You work here.” This is helpful because of my extensive experiences, as a child, spending time in a different hospital, because of my congenital heart condition. At other times, I deliberately walk through the interior of the hospital for another reason: just to warm up before my first appointment with patients.

  4. I guess I’m not alone, in being a loser.

  5.  More precisely: “when”, not “if.”

Categories: inspiration, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 37 Comments

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37 thoughts on “Day 379: I’m a loser

  1. I would suggest you concoct a system in which you A: Take off your gloves. B: Fasten them together. C: Stick them in one pocket. However, I fear that would signal the start of too many both-glove search missions. That leopard-skin glove is memorable, Ann. I agree with your boyfriend on that one. The red one ain’t bad, either. Right now, the singletons are hanging out somewhere with my many lonely single socks. By the way, yesterday I had to have a copy of my car key made because the spare had become misplaced. The woman behind the counter offered that now the spare would surely turn up. I’m not so sure.

    • Different people have different rules and techniques regarding this very human experience, don’t they, Mark? Thanks for the memorable comment.

  2. Looks like your mitts can be attached to each other…you know… handcuffed! 😉
    Diana xo

  3. There is one glove left in our house – and the only reason it has survived because it lives in my desk drawer – for the rare times my mouse hand gets colds! Since we don’t get cold weather down here very often, gloves don’t get replaced very often!

    • I’m glad you are nice and warm, Kate. I really like that idea of a mouse glove! Thanks so much for reading and commenting today.

  4. I had the habit of taking my gloves off in the car, while driving, once my hands had warmed up. I would place them on my lap, and then promptly forget they were there. When I’d arrive at my destination (work, the mall, home) I would open the car door, stand up and walk away — dropping my gloves beside the car in the process. I have lost so many gloves this way!

    • Me, too, Nancy! I often find gloves right outside the driver’s door — and sometimes in the car, too — having been dumped unceremoniously from my lap.

  5. Let’s see if we can put a finger on the problem. If we knuckle down, we can solve this together.

    Oh, I think I’ve nailed it. Are you only losing the right ones? Clearly, you’re taking them off to lend someone a hand. Thumb people would say that although this makes you a very nice person, you’re taking a big wrist whenever you do it.

    Now I’m going to have some breakfist..

  6. I used to have a problem with socks – gloves for the feet? Finding matched pairs when taking things out of the washing machine. Then I bought a number of new pairs that were all identical and removed the ones that had various patterns. After that, it didn’t matter if any got lost…

    • What a great, creative solution! Thank you. I am going to try to adopt your attitude, separate from the actual socks (or gloves): that it doesn’t matter if any get lost.

  7. More valuable wisdom served up with humor! Thank you. Here’s hoping you find, and keep, your errant gloves, or at least find some lovely new ones. ‘Cause you’re a WINNER (I save the negative labeling for myself :)).

  8. Ann, thank you for clarifying what type of looser you are, for I was ready to jump on here to yell YOU ARE NOT! I loose socks. I swear my dryer eats them. I have mismatched socks in my drawer waiting hoping that the others will appear. I have NO idea. Natta. Now, if you are lucky, could the missing gloves, one being a left and the other right, so you could wear the both of them? Now that would be different!

    No, Ann, you are not a patient. I will vouch for you.

    • Thank you for your reassurance, creativity, and openness. I’m so glad you read and comment on my posts!

      • PS Even saying something as you did in “fun”, your subconscious is “listening” which does not know it is being said in fun. It takes things quite literally. Our thoughts, words and actions are more powerful then we really know. Or understand for that matter.

        And it works both ways you know. I smile every time I see your “glasses” over at Petals. LOL

      • The smiling is mutual.

  9. I found this lone, right-handed glove today. It was lying by the boots in the front hall. Normally, I would have tossed it into the cupboard where it would have to fend for itself. Possibly, never to be worn again if it didn’t find a mate.

    Instead, I thought of you and put it on the hall table with a cool pair of glasses, like your stuffed cat wears. Someone will see it and take it. If not, it will be an Ann statement that we should be who we are and live non-judgmentally.

    No puns at all in this post. Not one. I think that’s an ad-mitt-ance of defeat

    • Personally, I think people should follow my blog just for the chance to read your comments.They’re always so clever AND … touching. No puns here, either.

  10. Pingback: Day 380: S-words (Secundo) | The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally

  11. Not alone at all 🙂 Great and funny post!

  12. This was a fun and interesting post! I love the way you had us, from the start! We were ready to defend you, Ann! You are not a loser! Oh, gloves and mittens… hmmm… Yes, you are that kind of loser! Aren’t we all? Thanks for your being there + liking my posts! Smiles, Robin

  13. We are a mixture of ingredients that if taken separately, can be unpalatable. I don’t want to eat baking soda by itself, or salt, or vanilla. But mixed with chocolate, sugar, flour, milk, butter and eggs, you can make an incredible cake everyone wants a piece of. :People who view us by the taste they get trying to eat the ingredients separately might be pleased with the milk, but could complain about the raw eggs. 🙂

    I don’t want to know what that cake would taste like if it were made in a hospital.

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