Cranky

I don’t know why, but I’m super cranky today. Maybe I had cranky-making dreams. Maybe it’s the way Windows 10 isn’t getting along with my laptop (Tip for everyone reading–go to the manufacturer’s website before you upgrade your OS and make sure your laptop is covered. Even if it was a midline laptop when you bought it three years ago.)

For the record, cranky is okay. We’re people, not robots. We’re not going to be shouting for glory every day of our existence.

It’s what you do with cranky.

Today, someplace in Saudi Arabia, a 21-year-old man is going to be beheaded and crucified for protesting against the government and possessing an illegal firearm (a charge he denies). That’s right. They’re going to behead him and then they’re going to crucify him as a warning to others, presumably.

I don’t include that because it makes me an awful human being for bring cranky. I include it as a cautionary tale about crankiness.

To be fair, in Saudi Arabia, we’re talking about institutional crankiness. This guy wasn’t tortured and isn’t being executed because someone had a bad day and let it spill over. Executions like this are what happens when we fail ultimately as human beings–the ultimate in crankiness.

I can’t behead someone or literally crucify them, but I can contribute to the circle of screaming. I get cranky then someone else is cranky to me and I figure, hey, I’m cranky and respond with proportional fire power. And then we’re both cranky. And then we cranky two friends and they cranky two friends and so on and so on and so on. Like the shampoo commercial, only with yelling.

So, today, I will try to do my best to break the circle. No promises, but that’s the plan. I won’t save the guy’s life in Saudi Arabia, but it’s what I can do today.

And if I screw it up, then I have a fresh day tomorrow to try again.

Not that it’s okay to be cranky today, but I’m less likely to be cranky tomorrow, if I stop beating myself up about it.

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Affliction

I am afflicted by depression.

There. I’ve said it. If I were famous, you could contact my publicist and I’d come on your show (I’m depressed; buy my book.).

I’m just a guy with a family and a job, trying to get to the end of the day.

No one would choose to see the world the way I sometimes do. (Well, maybe a Jets fan…)

And then depression set in…

Depression has been part of my life for a long time and it’ll probably continue. I need to own my circumstance so I can do better for myself and for the people around me.

I’m not Eeyore. I’m capable of being happy. I just have to work at it a little more.

I don’t expect the world to accommodate me. People wear glasses so they can see better; I’m doing these things so I can live better:

• I get outside where it’s brighter and I can get direct exposure to sunlight. Bright light is bad for gremlins, but great for people like me.

Bright light! Bright light!

• I interact with people, even when I don’t feel like it.
• I’m taking fish oil pills to get Omega 3 fatty acids. (If you freeze fish oil pills, they don’t come back on you.)
• I do something at least once each day to make me happy. Some things are little, like working outside. Some are big, like Tough Mudder.
• I take stock of things and people around me that are really awesome and how cool that makes my life. Hint: it’s pretty cool.
• I exercise, which literally rewires your brain. (It also makes me rock a sport jacket and tie. I rook mahvelous. Absolutely mahvelous.)

You do rook mahvelous, dahling. And you know who you are.

• I could be doing better at eating clean, but I’m working at it. Sugar and other processed crap adds to your body’s inflammation, which adds to depression.

And I’m part of a small group of similarly challenged people. That’s a big help. It’s always easier when people around you understand and can pick you up.

If you read this and think Hooray. Yet another true confession, this post isn’t for you.

If you feel like you’re running in loose sand while everyone else runs on the pavement, if you feel like the color is gone and 50 shades of gray isn’t sexy, it’s just a crappy way to live…

If you feel those things, this is for you. Your challenge is real and it’s difficult. If you’re functional and successful, you aren’t a big sissy, you’re running in sand and keeping up with the people on pavement.

This blog won’t become Chris’s Depression Corner. If you want to read sad stuff, read about the Jets. But I need to deal with this part of my life to be fit and healthy. And I’m not alone.

Fitness, nutrition, and…what else?

As I write this, it’s been a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad week. Not a day, mind you. A week. On top of a few weeks that have been less terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad–but the trendline’s been moving upward.

I kind of lost it this week.

Fortunately, I was able to get a reset. I went to a church group and listened way more than I spoke. But eventually I asked questions and one of the questions I asked was to be included in the prayer at the end.

And then I spent some time thinking about the circumstance and how I got there and decided part of the problem was me and that I needed to change my approach to things.

But I have more work to do.

I want to be happy. I’m happy about my fitness. I’m increasingly happy about the eating choices I make. But I want to be happy. Not just for a little while during a run, or if I’m working on a wonderful craft brew at the local brewpub (a wonderful thing about living here, now). I want happiness to be my base state.

That’s the third leg of the stool. Fitness, nutrition, and happiness. Or, if you prefer, fitness, nutrition, and spirit.

You can eat the right things and run your butt off. But there are amazingly unhappy people who do that. And chances are the fitness and nutrition won’t last if you aren’t happy. And for my money, if you’re happy, but you eat everything in sight and watch an average amount of TV or more, your happiness might eventually give way to health problems.

When I started this journey, it was about fitness. In the past several months, it’s been about fitness and nutrition. But to have the life I deserve, there’s more to it than that.

Insert mandatory Pharrell Williams video here.

You have to make time for games

A few weeks ago after a work event, we went to a local beverage-serving business (wink, wink) and played Jenga. It wasn’t Jenga the way you know it. It was Jenga where the game pieces were made of 2x4s. Giant Jenga. Big-as-my-butt Jenga.

With regular Jenga, the stakes aren’t very high. You pick the wrong one and the worst thing that happens is you have to help rebuild the tower. With big-as-my-butt Jenga, when you lose a game, the resulting collapse can wake the dead and register on the Richter scale. Put another way, you don’t stand next to the tower when it wasn’t your turn.

The best thing about big-as-my-butt Jenga was that it was fun.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t want to lose–which I did twice. But I didn’t mind that much. I played with two other people and we all thoroughly enjoyed stacking the blocks two-thirds of the way to the ceiling.

Even losing was fun.

Today with email and projections and objectives and deadlines and goals, sometimes fun is a treated as a luxury. It’s something you can do when you’re far enough ahead that it won’t look bad. It’s something for off hours, maybe something you do when the kids are asleep and the dishes are washed and the bills are paid–which should give you maybe 56 seconds before it’s bed time, so you can get up and do it again.

In the past few weeks, a Facebook friend–someone I didn’t know–died of cancer. The husband of someone I worked with for an organization I’m in also died of cancer. Jeremiah Healy killed himself. And a woman I work for is still battling brain cancer.

It’s given me pause to think about priorities.

Sure, work’s important. In my belief system, the master invited his servant to enter into his joy after the work was done. But that doesn’t mean the work can’t be fun.

Life is the longest thing you’ll ever do, but it’s still pretty short. The seconds are numbered and your allotment could be used up at any time. Existence is a precious and finite thing.

Even more, look at the people who excel, the ones you look up to. Tell me they don’t have fun at their work. Tell me there isn’t joy.

It’s not going to be there every second. It might be a rare and precious thing for you. But at the end of your life, you won’t wish you’d treated more things like grave matters of earth-shattering importance.

Have some fun. It makes everything else easier.

We. Are going. To DIE! (So we might as well live for all we’re worth.)

Before today’s post, a word from the great Indiana Jones.

It’s true. Never in the course of humanity has there been a greater array of threats to humanity. Ebola. That mysterious flu-like thing going around. ISIS. ISIL. Global warming. Global climate change. Cancer. Heart disease. Income inequality. The Russians. The Chinese. The economy. That asteroid that’s going to certainly hit us someday. It hasn’t been like this since…well, since yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. It’s enough to cause insanity!

Okay, this kind of insanity really is scary. But other than that…

Nuclear war was going to be the end of us. Before that was machine guns. Before that was something else. Tomorrow, it’ll be something else (sentient computers maybe?). And the day after that, we’ll all be here worried about today’s immediate threat that will wipe out life as we know it.

Duck and cover. Because a nuclear warhead can kill everything–except your desk and what’s under it.

Indy’s right. We are going to die. Everyone dies sometime, kiddo.

That means life is short and valuable. And rather than worry about the threat of the day–something I typically can’t do anything about anyway, I think I’ll live.

I think I’ll run or lift some weights. I think I’ll be happy to see people I haven’t seen in a while. I think I’ll do something to help someone around me. I think I’ll try to smile more than I did yesterday. I think I’ll try to say or do something to pick someone up.

The people trying to push all those causes of imminent demise don’t care about you. Not personally. They care about their cause, or their product. They care about trying to get you to see things their way. Or about convincing you to buy their book or vote for their candidate.

That’s not to say you shouldn’t care about things. The world is a better place when people care about things. But it’s also a better place when you’re not scared to death of it.

There’s something amazing you can see within 100 feet of you right now. And it’s not the latest headline blaring infinite doom.