I’m angry. I’m angry that I’m angry. I loathe the fact that I am angry about being angry. It’s my right to be angry, however, so I vow not to loathe my anger.
I am fearful. I am fearful about my fear. It grows daily with each new news report about how I should be afraid of losing my job, losing my house, starving to death, losing my ability to care for my animals, getting older and not having health insurance. I am fearful about our environment and the loss of many species with the latest threat to the polar bears. I loathe the fact that I am so fearful about things that are beyond my control.
I wish I could be more Zen-like. Accept that which I cannot change. However, if I just accept things, even though I cannot change these things, don’t I just become complicit in the whole horrible process? That’s how I used to think many years ago which brought me nothing but ill health due to excessive stress. I worried about everything.
Now I just stress about almost everything then do mental exercises to alleviate my stress until the next stressful thing arrives. When the mental exercises don’t help, I pound my head against the wall to knock myself into unconsciousness. That helps until I wake up and remember what caused the stress that motivated me to knock myself unconscious.
I’ve tried seeing a psychiatrist until I realized that those people are as screwed up as everyone else and don’t know how to fix anything. They do know how to write out a prescription for anti-depressants, though. I won’t take them. You shouldn’t take them either. They don’t make the problems go away. Of course if you don’t have health insurance you can’t afford to buy them anyway. And, you’ll still lose your house or job or starve to death. Doesn’t that make you angry?
You know what helps? Spitting. If you get angry enough you should just spit. You can hear it and you can see it which means you can truly appreciate the awesome value of it. Spit at the wall; spit at the floor; spit at your local politician. It beats throwing expensive shoes. And when the spit dries on your wall or floor, feel free to color it with crayons to brighten up your world.
If the spit dries on your local politician, revel in the fact that he/she will now have to take their garment to the dry cleaners or else worry about whether or not they contracted some horrible disease from your ugly spit. They will become fearful and they will loathe you for your disgusting habit. What they sow, so shall they reap. That should make you happy.