I love good days. Good days are like rainbows—they refresh and renew, delight and inspire. On good days I can run and laugh and smile and make stupid jokes nobody laughs at. Yesterday was a very good day. And then there was…
Today.
Today I feel like all the Mondays of the whole year joined forces and morphed into the biggest, stinkiest, ugliest Monday there ever was. (It’s Thursday by the way) That’s what dealing with chronic depression/pain is like. Every day has the ability to be a Monday.
The grody Monday Monster isn’t satisfied unless it wallops me completely. Which is how I found myself laying on the floor of my cubicle moaning. (okay, that didn’t actually happen but it felt that way) I realize I should have done something inspiring like read an encouraging scripture passage, pray, or walk the stairs to get my adrenaline pumping. Instead I went to lunch with a friend and complained.
You can’t see me but I’m shaking my head. Epic failure.
Swami Margaret
“Margaret, we all need to vent. Just go on and let it all out there. Air those feelings. Feel them and then exhale them. The more you let them out the better you’ll feel.”
That looks good on paper but in practice it’s terrible. Because the moment we start droning on about what’s wrong with our lives, the more we infect others with our misery. Also, complaining elicits bad advice from people who can’t solve your problem—which only compounds the problem and makes you and the person frustrated when you reject their advice. About half-way through my gripe-fest I realized how impossible I was behaving and began talking about things I am grateful for. My friend said, “Look at you! Way to turn it around!” And then I smiled and we parted ways, and I wept.
I wish “venting” helped. It doesn’t. I wish being grateful helped. It doesn’t. Sometimes the big stinky Monday Monster wins and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Now that I’ve spilled the milk and cried over it…
It’s time for ice cream.
No Oreos!
And, rats. Wait a minute. If I give in to food lust I’ll be depressed AND fat. If I’m fat I’ll feel even worse because I’ll have to go shopping for new clothes(and I loathe shopping). And if I have to buy new clothes I’ll have to spend money I don’t have, which means going into debt, etc. etc.
Geez. Is there any winning against the Monday Monster of Madness?
These are the thoughts I wrestle with every day I feel like a gutter sludge-sickle.
But guess what? There’s hope!
When the Monday Monster starts slurping and slobbering all over my wimpy resolve, I remember that I still have a few secret weapons in my arsenal. One of them is…
Humor
I was doing crunches the other morning(that’s abdominal work for all you non-workout folks). I like crunches because they make me feel like Jillian Michaels(until I stand up). While I’m on the mat crunching away I’m thinking, “Margaret, you are so rocking this ab workout. You are STRONG. You are MIGHTY. You are too awesome for words.” And then after my workout I was walking through my house and realized my belly was swaying side to side, and not in the most flattering of ways.
When one loses an immense amount of weight, the skin does not return to its smooth and youthful vigor. It sags. It lumps. It curdles like cottage cheese. Which is why I started crunching in the first place. I thought ab work would eliminate the wobbly belly. Nope. Surprise, surprise! The television commercials all lie!
But instead of moping about because of the jiggly belly, I realized that some people will never experience the free flowing gladness of misshapen tummy trembles. Sadly, they will go through life slender and sleek, convinced that the six pack ab look is the penultimate achievement in physical perfection. They will hear the cry of their stomach and endure agony upon torturous hunger pang all the while missing out on the blessed, billowing belly of bliss.
And for some reason that struck me as both sad and incredibly funny. So I began walking around my house trying to perfect what I now call, “The Trendy Tummy Sway”. And my children were dutifully horrified and I was pleasantly proud. Because it takes a special gait and body type to perfect, and I–my friends–am now the ultimate TTS master.
So today when the Monday Monster started snacking on my resolve today, instead of eating ice cream, I decided to demonstrate the Trendy Tummy Sway in public. I strutted down corridors and aisles with the finesse of a runway model. I strolled and strutted. I sexy-pouted and swayed. And you know what I learned? Evidently, nobody really notices the TTS but me. But it was certainly fun to amuse myself and it did snuff out my food cravings completely.
Today if you are above ground,
if you are breathing,
if you are cross-eyed or lacking limbs,
if you are bulbous or bony,
…you are capable of laughter.
Smile! Everybody loves a Ham!
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