Got up at 6 am. Went running. 5 miles along a deserted riverbank. Passed the jobbies waiting for their train to lock them up in their cubicles till 5 pm. They looked particularly brain dead today. There was a bit of a fog that emphasized their zombie look. A couple of them were chitchatting about a popular Flemish soap opera.
Got back with my blood flowing much more smoothly. Am watching a documentary about Nixon. Sort of my reward for my self-inflicted Spartan treatment. We have something in common. He was an up from his bootstraps kinda guy, who never got over his social inferiority and was full of resentment.
I know hatred is like swallowing poison and hoping someone else to die. In my case: an ex-mother-in-law, a couple of communist sect people, one mainstream journalist I can’t stand, a couple of fellow writers. Ah, the usual shit. You know the drill. I know harbouring resentment is unhealthy, so I actively cultivate healthier, more positive thoughts, and running helps to get rid of them.
Running is cheaper than therapy. If everybody picked up daily running and established better friendships I’d be out of business as a therapist by the end of this year, quite likely even sooner.
Anyway, I have to get ready to meet a colleague. We’re working on a new play. And I’m starting to regret I won’t be on stage. I think it could be particularly healthy to ventilate my thoughts on a stage in a scathing monologue.
I always encourage depressed clients to get creative, get it out of their system. Depression is usually linked to pent-up anger.