Tuesday, 26 January 2016

The Perils of Gluttony At The Trough Of Contentedness

My sincere apologies or the delay. To many factors keeping me from getting he sequel to The Perils of Gluttony At The Trough Of Contentedness.Please  return later tomorrow (Sunday) when it will be posted.

Happiness is nothing but good health and a bad memory ― Albert Schweitzer

To those manly men that could not sit through Marley and Me, or those burly buds  who shed a tear when the Seahawks coach elected to pass on 2nd down in the big game, I suggest you exit , pronto stage left,  as very shortly readers will be blindsided by details of an emotionally graphic scene - a head-on collision of family bonding feeal-good vibes, a return of decent health, with a general sense of being blessed. It is the spector of a man purchasing a water dish for his dog, just because it said “Life Is Good”.

Returning from a family visit, the closer I got to the baggage area the more the feeling grew.  My wife has said that at the top of my game, (prior to my DBS Light surgery)  my best waterworks show rivaled anything the Bellagio in Vegas put on. Post surgery things are back to normal, seeing me cry at much more socially acceptable occasions, such as when Michael Buble  butchers   Sinatra’s classic “Nice work if you can get it”; someone puts on Van Morrison’s Brand New Day (Honey do you mind checking if the downspouts are down?); or when my Mom confesses that it really is true - I have always been the favorite son. For those psychotherapy and social work students   here to satisfy the required reading for their coursework - the technical term in our house is  the
“good cry”. The meaning and use of this phrase is very similar to ”it's a good sick”   to describe how one feels following a  family meal on the holidays and other competitive eating events. It seems generally to function as a pressure valve to let off steam. In the end, the show was a no show,  I managed to hold things together.

Nearing the end of the long walk through the terminal, I was looking for a spot to pull over and collect myself before heading to the curb to meet my wife. Unfortunately, I turned my attention to the left and her eyes locked with mine.  The “Life Is Good” clerk had found her prey. I swear she was in cahoots with  WestJet as she seemed to have intelligence on me. She just seemed to know that I had yet to purchase anything for  my wife. Like the gator at the watering hole who knows the gazelles will have to come down for a drink sometime, She just decided to bide her time. Running out of shopping options, I crossed the hall and entered the store.

She was smooth, rehearsed, and knew how to upsell - and then how to up-sell her up-sell. As it often does, my imagination ran wild - Was WestJet in cahoots with Life Is Good and I had been gatitudinally profiled?:

<Blair’s Imagination>
As heard on the Life Is Good PA system: Clerks, Airline staff confirm arrival of a passenger whose gratitude levels are right off the charts. Mr. Rasmussen is now deplaning at Gate 68. Life is good profile:  Current gratitude level -  off the charts;  Marital status - as happily married as a game show  contestant; Wife’s style of dress - campfire casual; Dependents -no kids, just one daughter - a temperamental border collie husky cross.

All kiddie crap hidden, Doggie ware., squeaky toys and all Mens large sweatshirts on dsplay, front and center!!  How was I to explain all the"Life Is Good crap I had bought? There was no line item to be found in our recent family budget for "Life Is Good" crap. As it turns out there as no explanation needed as it would seem that on can get away with quite a few transgressions when one displays a genuine gratitude for anything an everyone involved in their life. 

An epiphany came with the realization that despite how well things had improved since my  DBS Light surgery, I wondered why I did not feel any  happpier. Since surgery, things had improved in most ways. I was sleeping unbelievably well, while my mobility was at times a visual trainwreck. Functionally, I was moving right through from one med cycle to the next. We were now able to go skiing, snowshoeing - things we hadn’t done in a few years. It seemed a reasonable  assumption that my outloook might be a little sunnier..

As well, I recognized,  and  reflected on   the fact that post diagnosis, I could not detect any level of change in my happiness either. Was I in denial?  I did I simply not recognize the crappy neurological hand I had been dealt? Don't get me wrong, I was content with my level of contentedness - Just curious of the way my happiness seem to be locked in a narrow range.

Stay tuned for Par 2: "Blair's Synthetic Happiness Factory goes Work To Rule" o.'

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