What Are “Off Days” and Why Do We Have Them?

Off days. Bad days. Poor-performance days. Write-off-days (the extended version).

There’s a number of aliases for this little butthole. But regardless of it’s name or what time it shows up at the front door that morning, we’ve all encountered it. We’ve all greeted it, groggily-eyed and miserable, an uninvited visitor who makes himself at home, anyway.

But, what is an off-day? I hear you asking, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

As opposed to it’s preferred, much favoured on day, an off day is literally just that. A day — or maybe a month, a week, or simply four and a half minutes — where things aren’t going quite right.

The Case Studies

You’re a footballer, a renowned one, who is always at the peak of your performance, captain of your team and hero of your supporters. You train tirelessly all week, as you have done for years. Dedication and perseverance are the names of your football boots. But for some reason, this Saturday, it’s twenty minutes in to your 3pm kick-off and you absolutely suck. It’s like you’ve just dipped your feet into a tin of tuna that’s been sat out in the sun for a couple decades, because you’re stinking up the place. For whatever reason, you just keep losing possession of the ball, missing the goal, not running quite as fast as usual. You can’t put your finger on it (or your foot), but whatever’s happening, you’re off your game today.

You’re a composer, you always have been, because your blood is infused with a gentle melody, your heart beats with a staccato rhythm. But for some reason, this Wednesday, the music will not flow. It’s like a four-year-old has been hired as a wedding DJ — slightly out of place, no idea what’s going on, and eventually ends up in the centre of the room, crying on the dance-floor. Why? You yell into the front end of your trombone, why can’t I get this to sound right? Because, my friend, you’re having an off day. But that’s all it is.

You’re taking an exam. It doesn’t matter what in, because it’s universally accepted that exams wildly suck. However, you don’t mean to brag but, you’re quite the expert at them (exampert? No?). Every exam you’ve strutted out from with a smug tinge to your eyebrows because you know how hard you’ve worked prior, you know how many hours you’ve devoted to study, you know how much effort you’ve put in. You’ve developed your own system that’s proven to work consistently for you. So why is it that you’re stood outside the exam hall this Tuesday, with your eyes mimicking that of the rain clouds above you? There’s no spring in your step this time. Only trembling thighs.

Me? I used to play the piano. Every Monday without fail, I’d be sat there, tinkling the tune-maker for an hour long lesson, blasting out a rendition of Fur Elise complete with the weird, yet mesmerizing sway that pianists do whilst they play. And doing this for almost 52 Monday’s for almost 11 years meant that yeah, I can damn right play a tune or two. But, unfortunately, my off day coincided with performing in front of my biggest audience yet. Four whole people. I messed up. I faltered. I stumbled over my own fingers so much so that the only coherent sounds were that of my panicked breaths and struggled chokes, holding back the fear tears. I was sweating onto my seat.

See?

Off days happen to everybody. To all of us. They’re common and frequent and bloody annoying and normal.

The Cause

But why do they occur? I hear you ask again, second eyebrow joining the other, raised alarmingly high up on your face.

Well. When I did some thorough, worm-hole digging on Google, I was handed a lot (a lot) of gym-related answers. And whilst, at first, I couldn’t bear to even look at them (because exercise is synonymous with inappropriate-horror-film-content), I realised that actually, yeah. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, if you think about it.

An off day is like a rest day.

It’s like you’ve spent hours in the gym, working tirelessly, pushing yourself, yelling supportively and perhaps slightly aggressively as you pound that last mile on the treadmill. Having done this for six days in a row, then yeah, sorry my friend, but there’s no wonder your ankle has swollen to the size of a Sainsbury’s honeydew melon. There is a solution, though: have a sit down. Have a rest.

Same applies here. It could all simply be a result of cramp in your calf or a broken thumb or the fact that you were up all night revising because your aunty overstayed her welcome yesterday evening and messed up your study schedule and now you can’t keep your eyes open long enough to read your exam paper. There’s a multitude of biological, anatomical, physical reasons. Exhaustion. Lack of food. Illness. A giant spear protruding from your shoulder. Whatever it is, you need to take time to refresh yourself. To let your body heal.

However.

Often, with off days, it’s more likely the gym membership that your brain has involuntarily signed up for.

Because your mind is the root cause of your talent, your ability, your skill. Of you. You can’t get your legs to manoeuvre the ball without the decision to practise and to learn (and to literally signal your legs to move). You can’t compose music without thinking about what sounds complement one another. You can’t focus your brainpower on examination questions without, you know, applying brainpower.

And after doing this so often, for so long, pushing yourself, pushing your mind to be the best it can be, as you glide through life via your cranial cross-trainer, then yeah, sorry, but of course it’s going to be a little worn down.

It needs a break, too. It needs time to focus on simpler things for a little while. It doesn’t have to be too long, but it does have to be done.

So be kind to your mind.

For the little, eyeliner-less pianist kid that was me, I was trapped inside my head, my brain scorched from hot, smoky fear. The stress of such a large, expectant audience wore down the layers of my mind until there was only a panicky pip left. I slipped up, a tiny bum note that they probably didn’t even notice, but from there onward, the line of dominoes fell. It threw me off, I began to overthink it and I then I thought: sigh. Screw it. The entire thing is a lost cause now.

That’s the thing, you see. An off day is a result of an off day. Or even a brief off moment. Because the second you get it in your head that oh no, I’ve messed up, I suck, then it stays with you. It knocks your confidence, it raises your anxiety and it’s entirely counter-intuitive. A paradox. It’s the incessant fear and worry that it will happen again, or never go away, that actually results in it happening again, or never going away. Or what you perceive to be an off day, anyway. It’s your subconscious, questioning your every next move, analysing it and only scanning for the negatives, from there on out.

I could have just shaken off the wrong finger-positioning of the piano keys. I could have thought whoops. Oh well. That’s one off note. The other four hundred are going to be spectacular, though. Just need to get my head back into the game. Breathe and focus. But my thoughts were preoccupied. They were too busy hammering banners into the squidgy parts of my skull that read: wow. What a loser. You messed up once, you’ll mess up again. Hold on, let me fish out the Dunce hat for you. Wear it was shameful pride. And guess what? I messed up loads after that. Because that’s exactly what my mind believed I would do.

And that, ladies and gents, is overthinking for you. The more you overthink it, the more likely it is to happen. You’re literally thinking your off day into existence.

So think about ginger kittens, instead. Think that off day, out.

The Side-Effects

Once you think you’re having an off day — whether you are or you aren’t — then everything else around you starts to feel off, too. Your delayed train. The chewing gum lodged into your plaits. The chill in the air. Your favourite egg and mushroom muffin being sold out. Because you already have it cello-taped along a squidgy wall in your brain that sigh, this day is a write-off, then you suddenly start writing everything off. You start noticing only the crappy things, only the nuisances and overlooking the small yet spectacular things embedded into everyday life.

And actually, you have the very power to stop that. To do the opposite. You just need to catch yourself, sit yourself down, give yourself a stern look and then back up at them. Smile at the blossom trees. Savour your salted caramel fudge. Buy some tough shampoo, remove the chewing gum from your scalp and enjoy the coconut scent of your freshly washed hair. Play the piano unapologetically. Let your fingers learn from each mistake. Let your ears relish the sound.

Because just as it says here:

“A bad day is as real as you make it.”

So don’t make it real, at all.

The Solution

An off day is a rest day — it just sounds nastier, because we as the human race are masochistic little weirdos that like to make ourselves feel shameful guilt whenever possible.

But if you treat it just like that — a rest day, an intentional day off (not off day, you see? Flip that bad boy round) to let your body rejuvenate. To refresh your mind. To take a load off.

If you perceive it as nothing more than a head holiday, a body break, then you’re not giving it power that it doesn’t deserve. You’re no longer letting it upset you, embedding itself under your skin and leading you to (inaccurately) believe that you’re just not good enough anymore. Because that, that, has never, nor will ever, be the case.

So. Remember:

Whatever it is you’re doing: an off day doesn’t mean you’re not good it at anymore. It doesn’t mean you don’t still love it. You can wholeheartedly adore dark chocolate tarts (and I do), but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want it as an accompaniment to your red Thai curry. You can love vintage satin dressing gowns, but that doesn’t mean you have to rock up to the office and roam around offering your colleagues raspberry infused tea out of China teacups (I mean, you should. But you don’t have to).

An off day might just mean that your body, your mind, is a little burnt out. That’s okay, though. That’s normal. That’s expected. All you need to do is sit that fine ass of yours onto an oversized orange beanbag and think about cheese. Think about 18th century nightwear. Think about nothing. Just be.

Even if that means accepting that you’re a little off, for a little while.

Because soon enough, trust me: you’ll be back on, turned up to full and raring to go.

Until then, be good to yourself.

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