Th Art Of Overcoming Depression

It seems every day is a massive dose of erupting volcanic depression. Are you as nauseated as I over the never ending 24 hour news cycle of doom and gloom? My wife would say, "Shut off the computer, turn off the television and, whatever happens don't talk with neighbors and friends. In other words, go into a cave.

This period of history is reminiscent of the period in the late 60's and early 70's when we were deluged with youthful protests and the Nixon years. It was eight years of constant mayhem and violence culminating with our leaving the Vietnamese to be slaughtered. In those days it seemed even days were as dark as nights.

Here's my point. Writing has become a job and not a hobby. There's no inspiration and hasn't been since the previous election of three weeks ago. I'll say it again. "We live in depressing times".

As an example, I recall Mike Brown. He was a fun guy. We had great times together throwing the baseball, playing "Red light-green light". We'd hunt nightcrawlers. Mike had the best yard for worms and they were plentiful.

For the rest of my life when I hear his name I'll think of a thuggish punk who attacked a policeman. I'll be reminded of his delinquent friend who coined a bogus phrase, "Hands up, don't shoot".

You see, my Mike Brown was a childhood friend. I wonder if he'll have to go into hiding. Maybe he's dead. Lucky him if he is.

It's no wonder the pundits, writers at the NY Times, are so pitiful. Consider the garbage they're forced to report on, untruthfully, every day.

Sports guys could go to la-la land, the ballpark, and get away from the humdrum aspects of life. Not anymore, They want to be a significant part of political correctness. Bob Costas used to be an outstanding sports announcer. Today, he's a spokesperson for social causes; sports be damned. "Earth to Bob, do sports, not the reasons why we should avoid using the name, Washington Redskins".

Bob Costas would rather cover the 'coming out' of a gay  basketball player than breathlessly reporting on a record breaking sports performance. Sports, too, has become boring and depressing

My schedule of last Monday is a perfect example of how I needed a mental vacation. I made an early visit to my neurologist then headed to my doctor to have my sphygmomanometer recalibrated. There was a quick trip to Costco to pick up my new glasses. After that I drove down High Street to Luebbe Hearing and picked up a three month supply of hearing aid batteries.

I'm not finished so here we go. The hearing aids were tucked away so it seemed the perfect time for a  visit to Ohio Health and grab my new CPAP machine for sleep apnea. Since I was out and about and only ten miles from my Wal-Mart pharmacy I said, "Hey, why not get my pill prescriptions? Who wouldn't?

By now it was an hour after noon. I felt rejuvenated knowing this old body had all items necessary to go on with life. With an hour nap ahead of me I'd achieved my goal; no 24 hour news cycle hence no depression.

With old age comes wisdom. I hope youngsters read this particular blog. They might learn something about handling life and how to overcome mental illness and, let's all say it again, depression.