Mental Health, from December 1

In a recent extended, and largely unrepeatable, dialogue with myself, I accused me of being much more responsible for my own chronic foul humor than I ever wanted to acknowledge. I hate to admit it, but I think I was right. So I'm working on an experiment in building good mental habits - something along the lines of "whatever doesn't suck, think on these things." Is that how it reads?

Anyway, here's what I've done so far:I'm trying to make a conscious choice to read. Ironic, I know, but I'm difficult. Last week, inspired by an erudite brother, I started reading David McCullough's biography of John Adams. I've always wanted to read it, and noticed a copy in my parents' library at the farm. So amid the orgy of football and pie, I started reading. What's the big deal? Well, it's been over a year since I just read something...something not directly related to work. The biography is good, but what I love is that I'm still reading, that I found myself in a mindless moment at work thinking about the way Adams faithfully wrote letters to his wife in the midst of the business of creating a nation, and about the way McCullough's writing voice frequently takes on the linguistic style of Adams' letters. Which of course has nothing to do with work. Which of course is the wonderful point.

I'm trying to make a conscious choice to cultivate a disinterested detatchment from work when I'm at home. Yesterday, I'd planned to write three weeks of lesson plans for 8th grade history teachers, but Sara wanted a day to shop alone. I spent the day with the kids (they ate all their dinner!) and never opened my work bag. Today, I called Sara from work to check on her, to ask how her day was going. What's the big deal? I'm something of the national spokesperson for the "don't bother me at work" crowd, not to mention the national chair of the "obsessive compulsive 80-hour work week" committee. Saying no to work - even for a second - was refreshing.

I'm trying to make a conscious choice to exercise - it's supposed to build energy or some such nonsense. Yesterday, I worked out on the eliptical/stairmaster thingy, and did two sets of dumbells. Sadly, the belly was still here this morning, but I did bounce out of bed at 5:15 and didn't even stagger on the way to the shower. What's the big deal? I'm terminally lazy. There's something transcendentally triumphant about willing myself into discipline.

I didn't drop the F-bomb all day. What's the big deal? Have you met me? The day seemed surreal without the anger.

There's nothing special here...nothing laudable or noteworthy. The most impressive thing about this note (is this a blog?) is that I finally figured out how to post a note on facebook. But the point that might validate this obnoxious personal narrative (the horror) is that I've proactively done a few things that I feel good about, instead of reactively doing things about which I don't. These are comically small steps, but maybe that's the whole point: tiny acts of conscious resistance against the collossal encroachment of crapiness.

It will be interesting to see if writing all this down in a public forum will prove similarly positive.
Stay tuned...