The “D” Word or Punching Depressed People In The Face

Once ever two months I have an epic battle with some sort of depression. I do believe it’s genetic. Generally, it’s pretty gross, but I get through the three days of mud slide brain activity by reminding myself it will end in a couple of days. It always does.

The stuff I get depressed about is absolutely legitimate. money, age, money, age, money, the cat has fleas, money, my kids are growing up, money, we haven’t been on a vacation in years and my car has over 200,000 miles. Wait, those are the same as money.

But last time as I rolled around in  my three days of self pity and Eeyore like gloom, I realized something remarkable. Almost all the words we use to describe depression and feelings related to depression, start with the letter “D”.

Down, Downtrodden,  Distraught, Disenchanted
Discouraged, Doomed Distressed, Desolate

Weird! Right?

Yes, I understand it has something to do with the “dis” prefix. Still, it’s a disproportionate number of “D” words. When you think of synonyms for happy they are all over the alphabet.

Thinking about  this strange list of words distracted me from my self-absorbed woe and I accidentally drove to my Taekwondo school instead of driving home. Once I was in the parking lot, I figured I might as well work out for an hour to burn of the Taco Bell I had for lunch. 

Of course, everyone knows, working out causes your body to release endorphins. For me, endophins act like Mike Tyson. In the first half of the first round my depression was on the ropes and then it was gone, on the matt, KOed.

So, next time you see me and I seem depressed, do me a favor. Don’t feel sorry for me, don’t offer to buy me a beer or listen to my problems, just tell me to go work out. You’ll be doing us all a favor.

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Old People on Ellipticals

I swing back and forth. One day I am paralyzed by the fear of age. I don’t want to get any older I’ve got to much to do, I want to learn to surf. I love rock climbing walls and live bands. I was the baby in the family I can’t get old.

And then there are the days I look at seniors and I’m filled with admiration for old people, especially when they are fearless. 

Last week I watched an older lady climb on the cyborg like elliptical machine at Anytime Fitness.  She was wearing yellow polyester pants and a sweat shirt with a  spotted cat mad out of sequins. Still she climbed onboard as thoughborn to elliptical.  She set the resistance and incline fearlessly and her skinny legs began churning away. Then she plugged her earphones in.and changed the tv channel so she could watch Ellen. |Hell yeah, that’s how you work out at 70.

Last week I ate lunch with a lot of sixty year old men in the Ohio Club, a fantastic historic bar in Hot Springs, AR.  Everybody tells stories and makes fun of each other.Jimmy Young brought his mother, a lovely eighty year old who cheerfully sipped a pint of dark beer while the rest of us drank sweet tea. She was wonderful and witty. Drinking dark beer at noon when you’r eighty, that’s how to roll it right as a senior citizen.

Recently my son worked out with his 25 year old boxing coach. Tony has a full sleeve tattoo, it’s a swirling dragon fish combo that’s actually really pretty.  I took lost of pictures. Latter that afternoon  I pictures of Tony and Sandor working out in tank tops, on Facebook.  Tony called me and said he’d “untagged” himself .  He explained his grand parents are his friends on FB and they don’t know about his giant swirling tattoo. How cute is that? Old people on Facebook, poking around, tagging, lol-ing and thumbs up-ing just like college sophomores.

Honestly, I wish my mother-in- law would get on Facebook, or at least learn to e-mail.  We live 1500 miles apart and if she would just try to get on line she would be so much more connected with her grand kids. She is missing out and so are my kiddos.It almost makes me mad. 

 Hopefully, when I’m 80 and my kids want to visit with me via hologram I will embrace the idea simply to be closer to those youngsters. And I hope in turn, they will be just like Tony the boxing coach and protect me from all the wicked stuff out there. I hope I won’t be afraid to hang out with the boys and have a beer and I hope I’ll have the guts to jump on a treadmill or elliptical and speed off  in my bedazzled kitty cat sweat shirt.

Comment or write to me  Thanks, DH