Great American Smokeout

No cigarettes.

Do it for one day.

I dare you.

One Pill Makes You Larger and One Pill Makes You Small

Medication is the answer to every problem these days. Feel depressed? There's a pill for that. Anxious? There's a pill. Overweight? Just take these pills. Sleepy, not sleepy, pain, aches, sneezes, sniffles, pee too much, not peeing enough, can't get it up....pop a pill and make everything all right.

What really aggravates me is the accepted treatment for any mental health issue by throwing meds at people. Now...I'm not one of those types that believe medications have no place in mental health treatment. I'm just of the opinion that they only treat symptoms. Kind of like taking an aspirin when you have a headache. Gives relief; but if you have pounding headaches every day, maybe you should look a bit closer at finding the cause rather than crunching down bottle after bottle of Excedrin. Same with depression. If you're taking an anti-depressant year after year, are you really getting a handle on dealing with your depression? If you take pain pills long enough, sometimes you may discover that the only pain you are relieving is that of not taking the pills. There is no end to the number of people I know who are suffering all the mental and emotional devastation of a drug addict but who are convinced that they are not addicts because...well...it's prescribed by my doctor for my back pain...it's medicine.

It's okay to feel depressed. It's normal to feel pain. Though there definitely are times when both can become so debilitating that we need some relief to continue functioning...many of us become so dependent upon fiddling with our brain chemistry that we forget how to manage our own feelings. Some no longer even know how they feel.

Sorry for the rant but I had to get this off my chest. Enough preaching. Just remember to keep your head.

Pay Up!

Monday Cat Blogging

Age is a Number

This is one of my early memories which, for some reason, also seem to be my most vivid. The Jack LaLanne Show. I watched this on a prehistoric black and white vacuum-tubed television every morning. Not because I had a particular interest in exercise shows but because when the show ended, I would yell at my Mom that it was time for me to go to kindergarten. It was one of the ways I could tell time before I learned the advanced skills of reading a clock. I watched the show, not really understanding why he was jumping around all over the place...but he had a cool dog that I always wanted for myself.

Jack LaLanne is still alive! Dang...the man is 95 years old and still in better shape than most people a quarter of his age. What's his secret? Pills? Supplements? A complex diet program? Makeup?

Exercise and eat wholesome foods.

That's it.

I've never been particularly concerned about getting older. My fear is of getting older and getting sicker. What's the point of living into your 60's, 70's, and beyond if your life consists of pain and infirmary? I want my body to feel good whether my life ends next week or I live to be a hundred.

I still want that dog too.

Face It

I'm starting to believe that something worse than a poor self-image is one seeped in delusion. Of course, focusing on your faults and failures can be a road to depression and, perhaps, even an increase in the behaviors that cause those negative aspects about ourselves. But...then again...it can also be a motivator to change.

Walking around and telling myself "I'm a bit overweight, I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I'm not Faaaat! Not me. Lookit my arms...see how skinny they are?".

Don't look at my belly though. Don't ask me what my weight is this week. Don't comment about the closet full of triple X sized sweatshirts I wear every day to hide my body. Let me keep myself in ignorance about myself.

Trouble is, there isn't any bliss in that arrangement.

Score!

I love coffee. I love the taste of it and I love it rich and black. No sugar or creamer for me, and don't even try to give me any of that flavored crap. My favorite kind is Colombian. Not "Colombian roast" type knockoffs...but the real stuff...with the little seal of Juan Valdez and his donkey. Yet sometimes it seems as if it's easier to buy plutonium than my beloved Colombian coffee. There's always Folder's, but it goes at a premium price and is never ever on sale. Close to ten bucks for a 27.8 oz. plastic container.

Then, the other day, I was browsing in Big Lots. It's a great store. They have all kinds of items that you usually can't find anywhere else at very cheap prices. Most of the stuff is marketed for foreign stores and I suppose that, sometimes, the manufacturers decide it's more cost effective to unload to places like Big Lots rather than ship it to wherever. Anyway, on this particular day I spied Yuban Colombian coffee. $8 for a 44 oz. metal can.

I about passed out from excitement. Yuban is my favorite. You cannot find Yuban Colombian where I live. You certainly can't find any coffee in the old style big cans.

A once in a lifetime opportunity for coffee fiends.

I bought a dozen.

I'm going back today for more.