Be your own cheerleader

Rah rah ree, kick ’em in the knee! Rah rah rass, kick ’em in the ass!

Cake is good, cake is great, we use cake to masturbate!   ???


Yesterday when manchild got home from work, he ranted for 30 minutes about how he waited for 15 minutes to get a parking spot at the hospital staff parking lot after his lunch break and almost got into an altercation with another person who had already called dibs on the same spot. Rather than fight over the parking space, he backed his truck into the ditch and off-road raged back to the upper lot. Someone else pulled into the contested space before the other asshole could get himself parked. Justice was served.

The incident ruined his day, and he now claims he hates it here. There I was across the room trying so damned hard to keep a straight face and not let the laughter erupt. He was seriously miffed! His nostrils flare and his face contorts.  Anger is funny to me. Coping mechanism? You betcha.

After he finished strangling the invisible person in front of him, he decided to dump (emotionally; he’s far too civilized to crap on the loveseat).  I listened. He’s depressed, which isn’t news.

A little while later he asked if there’s a secret to my happiness, because he thinks, given the circumstances, that I should be more depressed than he is. I told him I lie to myself constantly. I tell myself that everything is good, and life is awesome even though in reality it may very well fucking suck. How bad it can suck is almost funny, so I also added that humor (laughing at myself, and at inappropriate times/situations) has saved my ass countless times and goes a long way in keeping the dark cloud from settling. Dark clouds hate humor.

Positive self talk seems ridiculous at first, but the longer I practice it, the more effective it becomes. I used to exude negativity, to the point of people being afraid to talk to me, but now I consider myself to be one of the more positive people in my small social circle. I’m also way way happier than I used to be. I’m not sure this would actually work if I were in the throes of major depression, but I’m hoping that it will keep me from getting to that point.

That’s not saying I don’t have bad days, because I do. Lots of bad days. In fact, I’m at the tail end of an awful day and I’m feeling like a huge sourpuss, but the scales generally tip in favor of good, simply because I started lying to myself. Or, you know, positive self talk. “Lying” sounds too negative. 😉

Edit: I wrote this in October, neglected to publish it, and then it started to lose its authenticity as my mood became winterized.

The depressed husband is still depressed, so that part is relevant. I spent the afternoon with him at work after my ultrasound appointment. We got on the elevator, some dude yelled “hold the door”, and he quickly hit the close doors button right before the guy could get in. Wrong button? Not exactly.

“That’s the asshole who stole my parking spot.”

Zing, motherfucker.

Dude, almost 4 months later and you’re still schooling this guy?  That’s commitment. ❤



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