Zen and the Art of Complaining

Okay, so I couldn’t resist the title.

I’ve been officially dropped by Medicaid. I now have no health insurance or prescription drug medicine of any kind. I wish I could say my freelance writing covers all my bills, but it certainly doesn’t. I have to be on Prozac or I get suicidal. I hate the government, I hate Big Pharma, I hate my stupid endogenous recurring depression. Waah.

There — I’ve complained. I’m done complaining now. And yes, I do feel better, thank you. Now I can get on with doing my job, walking the dog, eating my…wait, I think I missed the last couple of meals…anyway; I can now concentrate on getting on with my life. And that’s Zen and the art of complaining.

Everything In Balance

Ideally, we should take good news and bad news in stride, but I am not an ideal person. I find I have to complain when I receive bad news. However, I only make things worse for myself (and anyone around me) if I keep complaining and complaining. I have to give myself a time limit and then that’s it. Otherwise, I just sink into a very dark depression and that’s not a lot of fun. Everything — even complaining — in balance.

But a little bit of complaining seems to help purge the nasty feelings from me. I sometimes feel relaxed and refreshed after a few minutes of indulging in self-pity and railing at the unfairness of it all. Okay, sometimes I take an entire evening to purge. With a box of cookies. Blaring U2 and singing along (scaring the dog). (Peter Gabriel is great for blaring when it’s matters of the heart that needs complaining about; U2 for nearly everything else; The Beatles for railing about the general insanity of living.)

Life Needs Variety And Music

Besides, complaining incessantly gets boring. I’m now looking into individual health insurance options. My Mom still feeds me and still lets me live under her roof. The dog still wags her tail at me. There are still books to read. And the kettle is just about ready to sing for a cup of tea.

What music do you listen to when you need a good bout of self pity? I need music like Prozac, sometimes.

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