Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash

Relief.

Relief is the experience when something unpleasant or distressing ends.

An underrated emotion, we sandwich relief between pain and joy, never resting on that moment. We skip it, preferring to whine about the forgone pain or move on to the next tribulation.

But I ask: what’s better than relief? The sigh escapes your lips and you are free. You can move on.

I recently experienced major relief – and got to thinking about what moments in life create that big sigh release of internal pressure.

“Relief is a wonderful emotion, highly underrated. In fact, I prefer it to elation or joy. Relief lets the air out of the Tire of Pain.” — Adriana Trigiani

We need to celebrate relief. So let’s.

We feel relief when:

The flight attendant moves the big guy next to you to another row.

The road is empty of expected traffic and you will make it to your appointment on time.

The traffic is only that guy with the “slow” sign and what you thought was a twenty-minute delay is only two.

You print (or post) your finished paper or assignment or project. You have tea. You sleep.

Shaking the ink cartridge at three in the morning allows that one last copy when you waited until the last minute to finish your paper, assignment, or project.

Your solution to a math problem is correct, and you know why.

The snow is only a dusting.

The snow is seventy inches, and the world has closed down – especially on the day of the major test or presentation.

It doesn’t rain on your wedding day.

The snow on your wedding day turns into rain.

You fit in your wedding dress.

Aunt Diane doesn’t attend your wedding. Even though she threatened to come out of obligation to your Mom. Yes, she’ll be there. And she will try to keep her opinions to herself…

The message from that unrecognized number is a reminder about your car warranty.

The pink line on the little stick doesn’t appear.

The pink line on the little stick appears.

Your French teacher does not call on you.

The department of motor vehicle clerk calls on you.

The screaming baby in aisle six falls asleep.

The screaming baby in aisle six is not your baby. This time.

The scale registers a two-pound weight loss.

The scale registers a ten-pound weight gain, but you find the scale is mis-calibrated, and you lost five pounds.

The cop entering the coffee shop doesn’t recognize you and buys a doughnut.

The cop enters the coffee shop at the moment a creep decides to rob the place.

He finally texts you.

He stops texting you.

You get your period.

The hot flash ends.

You never get your period again.

The calamine lotion soothes the bug bites.

You arrive at a solution to a difficult problem in that ah-ha moment.

The morphine kicks in after you press the button next to your recovery bed.

All the lights on the Christmas tree light the first time.

Finding, on the first pass, the one dead bulb on the string of Christmas tree lights.

There’s enough Vagisil to get you through the night.

There’s enough Viagra to get you through the night.

The rash is not syphilis or herpes.

Grandma survives the surgery.

Grandma dies.

The restroom in the mall is right there.

The rest stop on the highway is in a mile.

The airport restroom has enough stalls to accommodate the queue of six-hundred women and screaming children.

Your Covid test is negative.

Your partner’s Covid test is negative.

You spot the spelling error in your resume before you send it.

You clean out your inbox.

You get the interview.

You get the job.

Your boss adopts the procedure you hesitated to recommend.

Your procedure proves to increase the profit margin.

You get the promotion.

You don’t get the promotion.

You receive that raise right after you commit to a two-year balloon mortgage.

You quit that job.

You remember to put the garbage out.

You have no garbage to put out.

You check done on a to-do item.

The eagles carry you from Mordor.

The lump is just a fatty cyst.

The lump is the cat you thought got outside when your thoughtless roommate was finally taking out the garbage.

The last package of chicken smells okay.

The IRS notice says they’ve waved the penalties and dropped the matter.

You apply lip balm onto dry lips.

You reach the tickle between your shoulder blades and scratch away.

It’s four a.m. and you find the hemorrhoid cream in the depths of the medicine cabinet.

He gets down on his knee and asks after years of waiting, and waiting, and waiting….

He signs the divorce papers after years of waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

The constipation… passes.

The diarrhea… passes.

The kidney stone… passes.

Your third grader passes Math.

Your inhaler works.

Your name isn’t drawn in the Hunger Games lottery.

Your angelic baby sister’s name isn’t drawn in the Hunger Games lottery.

You find your winning lottery ticket. You should stop leaving items in your pockets when you toss your clothing in the laundry basket.

The doctor’s office answers the phone.

The model-chick is his sister.

Your baby’s fever breaks.

Your child laughs after a fall from the swing.

Your car starts.

You locate the code that broke the website.

You were not the programmer to add the violative code to the website.

No one saw your post.

Everyone saw your post.

The website wasn’t live.

The tornado skips your town.

The tiger eats your guide and not you.

The check didn’t bounce.

The check is in the afternoon mail.

The overnight package makes it to its destination.

A listicle finally ends.