I listen to Collective Soul and cry, I listen to Ugly Kid Joe and scream, I listen to the Guess Who and sing my heart out, and then I get drunk. Flat out drunk.
Then, when I’m done with the above mentioned pity party, I sit down, think of my Dad, and have a conversation with him. No, I don’t “see dead people”, but his spirit still is with me and always will be, and I know he has and is still having a profound effect on my life. Talking with him gives me peace.
Rent an Austrailian movie.
Don’t know why it works, but on two previous occasions when it was tough to keep passing the open windows, I rented “Strictly Ballroom” and “Priscila, Queen of the Desert.” Lifted me out of the funk and helped me make it through another night.
Other stuff to try:
[li]Keep a journal. Sometimes just writing something down gives you perspective. Go wild, try stream of conciousness, or have an imaginary conversation with someone on paper.[/li]
[li]Read Kurt Vonnegut books - it’s how I got through my teenage years alive.[/li]
Hang in there…
I’m with Andy, medicate, medicate, medicate.
Once you see how much of an idiot you’ve made out of yourself while you were drinking, the rest of your problems will seem insignificant.
Oh yeah, another great Australian flick: Muriel’s Wedding
I remember my trip to Malawi and the poor guy with his legs all mangled from polio crawling across the street begging.
You mean there’s a light at the end of the tunnel?
I’m used to the darkness of a situation, and am used to the idea that there might not be a light at the end of the tunnel for awhile. Just put one foot in front of the other and plod on.
A couple of religions and philosophies suggest meditation, but I find it really hard to do- but there is a close substitute, and that’s knitting.
Knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting Knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting Knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting Knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting Knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting knitting
See, once you get in a groove, after a long time, everything goes away, and nothing exists in the world at all, nothing but endless loops of teal blue yarn (that’s the colour I chose for the scarf I’m making).
And when you “wake up” from the knitting, you have a rspectable start of a scarf of green mittens or purple knitted underwear-
I thought that the end product was not equal to the amount of hours it takes to make it, but I found out later that it is- if you give the knitted scarf to somebody else.
Get yourself arrested. Do a few years in the pen. Take this valuable time to eliminate from your mind all that is nonessential. Your focus will be on survival only. By the time you get out, you’ll be ready to take on the world as a brand new human with a complete understanding of your abilities and a sharper sense of reality.
A crack-fueled killing spree that ends in a dramatic standoff, pitting yourself against SWAT is also good.
Go out of you way to amuse others and make them chuckle. That sometimes kicks me out of a funk.
On a lighter note than my last post, scroll down to the bottom of this site. My brother keeps this picture on his fridge and told me “the best case scenario is that the horn went up his hole”. Life can always be worse.
Allow myself one day of self-pity; I call it “hybernating” or “playing dead.” I don’t answer the phones, take a shower or anything. By the end of the day I have realized my life is not that horrible and feeling sorry for myself is pitiful. I had one of these days a few weeks ago. I would give anything in this world to be able to cry though, but I haven’t been able to shed a tear in over six months.
I try to remember that things usually have a way of working themselves out eventually. Sometimes life sucks, yet this is what allows us to appreciate the times that it doesn’t suck.
I also consider my life as a whole. I consider the fact that, while I may not live in a mansion or earn a phenomonal salary, I still live better than 98% of the people in this world. I would venture to say that most people on this board, as bad as things may be, fall into the same category.
The book that turned it around for me was “Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism”, by Chogyam (sp?) Trungpa. From that book I learned:
[li]Don’t live your life to meet what you think others expect of you.[/li]
[li]When you’re stuck in a maze, it’s hard to find the way out. If you could look at the maze from above, you’d find your solution quickly. Try to take an aerial perspective of your problems.[/li]
There is the story of a monkey who was placed in a room without a door. The monkey ran around the room furiously, banging on the walls, trying to get out. When he gave up his struggle and sat down, he looked up and saw a window. Sometimes the answers are already there for you, if you don’t limit yourself to one approach.
I listen to Mozart. Sometimes the happy, upbeat stuff, sometimes something like the Lachrymosa from the Requiem. Doesn’t matter what, it almost always works for me. Also, reading a good book, taking a nap with my cat (or husband unless he’s part of the problem. 
) and eating chocolate.
I sing at the top of my lungs. Off key, of course. It’s best if done in the shower.
I dance. Sometimes just spinning around the room and collapsing into a heap on the floor is therapeutic.
I talk to my friends and let them take care of me. And then there are times when I think I can’t go on that I can take care of them. Helping other people helps me.
I go to the top floor of the parking garage here at school and stare out over the mods and watch the stars.
I find someone – anyone – and hug them.
I pray. I don’t sit there and recite the “Our Father,” but I just chat with God. Sample conversation, “Hey, God, it’s me. What’s up? Today was sort of crappy, but I did see the most amazing sunset, so that was nice. I’m thinking about going shopping tomorrow…” Yeah, maybe I’m a little strange.
I indulge in cheesy TV shows (like “A Baby Story” or “Dawson’s Creek”) and comfort food (“This is so depressing, my only hope is this homemade Prozac. Mmm, needs more ice cream.” – Homer Simpson).
I cry. A lot. And then I try to find something to laugh about.
I e-mail people and vent. My address is in my profile if you need someone to listen.
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{weirddave and all of the Dopers who are searching for that light at the end of the tunnel}}}}}}}}}}}}