Bad Mental Habits
I have noticed that various people seem to suffer from one or another bad habit.
One of these is the tendency to think that, of course, one is the smartest and best-informed person in the world and therefore anyone who disagrees about anything at all is a fool who should be pitied or scorned. (Without naming names I will say that I think there are sufferers on the Ship.)
Another is a matter of not noticing the passage of large blocks of time in one's life, so that a man of forty may assume he is in the same physical condition as when he was twenty, despite the fact that he has never done anything to maintain his condition.
Do you recognize these afflictions? Can you name others?
One of these is the tendency to think that, of course, one is the smartest and best-informed person in the world and therefore anyone who disagrees about anything at all is a fool who should be pitied or scorned. (Without naming names I will say that I think there are sufferers on the Ship.)
Another is a matter of not noticing the passage of large blocks of time in one's life, so that a man of forty may assume he is in the same physical condition as when he was twenty, despite the fact that he has never done anything to maintain his condition.
Do you recognize these afflictions? Can you name others?
Comments
I'm not quite sure why I've latched on to 23 as my age. I suppose I was 23 when I got married, but I'm not sure that's why.
I can run fast and far.
But when I wake up I just feel sad.
But yes, I recognise both these tendencies in myself and many more bad habits besides. 'Who can discern his errors?'
I mean, if everyone was as smart, wise and well-adjusted as me the world would be a better place. 😉
I've never been sporty but have always been able to walk relatively long distances with ease. During one of the breaks in lockdown I set off with a small tent and backpack to walk from my house to visit some relatives in a northern city. I improvised a route along public footpaths, a canal bank, an ill-considered yomp over a sizeable hill and a slog up a long valley to a pub with a campsite attached. I did 20 miles that first day.
The second day I did 18, much of it on a series of detours to get around a rocky defile and loose scree as the footpath was closed for repair. Ignoring advice from a couple out walking I attempted a difficult cross country scramble rather than taking a longer but gentler route. I ended up retracing my steps to take that recommended route, much to the amusement of the couple who were enjoying a drink outside a tempting pub as I staggered past much later.
At 2am I woke in my tiny tent to find my knees locked rigid. I couldn't move them at all until around 6am when I crawled out to limp to the loo.
A nurse camped close by advised me to get myself home and someone kindly gave me a lift to a station where I caught a train to somewhere my daughter could collect me and drive me home. I had my legs up for a fortnight.
Later that year I pulled a tendon trying to Dad-dance, skank and pogo at a punk and ska gig.
This last year I cycled in scorching heat through a lovely corner of Burgundy obliviously ignoring advice to eat substantially, drink plenty of water and take advantage of shade. I ended up in A&E but was soon discharged.
Lessons? Listen. Take advice.
Yes indeed - in my dreams, I can walk and even run, but IRL...forget it!
Nevertheless, I feel sometimes as though I'm still in my 30s, which were happier days. The trouble with nostalgia, of course, is that it's not what it used to be.
Many of our greatest artists, writers and poets have had such issues. It's arguably those who do not have issues are the ones with no grasp of reality. The pressure of modern society is killing, positively killing. Our ancestors, even 200 years ago, had no idea about tragedies and wars on the other side of the globe. We have these things televised in our living rooms, with detailed accounts freely available on the web. To say nothing about dire warnings from various sages who made Nostradamus seem like a dewy-eyed optimist.
We often see the impact in our fellows, but one needs to have self-awareness, or training, to see the defects in ourselves.
How about a motorbike? Or skiing?
Nevertheless, he still experiences a certain melancholy. I think that's a common condition as we age. We miss lost loved ones, the world around us becomes less familiar and more threatening. Older and retired people can become 'invisible.'
On the other hand, more mature years can bring greater wisdom and contentment. It all depends on circumstances and a whole range of factors, many beyond our control.
I suspect @Telford is reflecting on these - and they are many and varied - regrets, sadness over opportunities missed or roads not taken, relatives and friends we love but see no more, all manner of things.
Yet all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.
Yes, as believers we have a future and a hope and the kind of physical exercise Telford describes can release endorphins and create a sense of well-being - as well as being of value in and of themselves.
So, why the long face?
We wouldn't be human if we didn't have times of sadness or melancholy. It's unnatural to be buzzing and buoyant and like Tigger all the time.
Nevertheless, depression is a very real and debilitating condition and if that's part of the issue then we can seek help.
Heck, I'm sounding like an Agony Uncle ...
Come on Telford, tell us more.
For me, in my dreams, I can sail a boat round the Hebrides, go fellwalking, play in a pub 'covers' band etc etc. But family commitments and the poor health of Mrs Vole always get in the way. But I refuse to be depressed!
Sorry to hear about Mrs Vole's health issues but you appear to be dealing with them positively.
14 for me. Like RR, this often involves misplaced attempts at humour.
Running is the real problem for me - I start off at a speed that was easy several years ago, then wonder why I am half dead by the end of the run. On one occasion my fitness watch rated my "training readiness" as 3% at the end of a run, and sternly advised me to let my body recover!
Also: who the heck is that old guy in the mirror?
Oi. I nearly forgot this thread. @HarryCH , you're askin' for true confessions without offering up any yourself? Still holdin' out on us, eh? Tricky.
Yeah, well, I do tend to worry a bone now and then. Actually a few. I keep 'em under the bed for convenience' sake. I do wonder how a few have lasted as long as they have, as long as I've been goin' at 'em. Long shank bones, that don't go down easy, but stick in the craw. I'll be gnawing on 'em for quite some time to come. You?
I've been known to gossip a bit at times, too, even in private messages, wondering out loud to another, how to handle a person problem. Wonder, if anyone else has done that.
More of a verbal than mental habit, I suppose, though.
But what the mouth speaks....
Ach, well. Confession is good for the soul, eh?
Yourn?
Of the two examples I provided: with the first, I was likely thinking of one of my relatives, but the phenomenon is so common that it might be hard to find a person immune to it. With the second, much the same comment applies. Oops! Where did my years go? It is possible this applies more to males than to females, though a friend told me she had known Lesbians to whom it would apply. There may, of course, be people who properly value every moment.
I am not asking for confessions but for observations. Of course, it may be that we notice more readily afflictions we share. (See GG above.)
I probably would have answered more promptly , but I was gone for about a week.
If it's not confession, then it's gossip, isn't it? Or do we couch it enough that we feel we have adequately protected the identities of those -- even shipmates -- we slander.
It's all about health and fitness. In my late 40s I was diagnosed with angina so was no longer capable of playing cricket well. I qualified to become an umpire and spent most Saturdays in the summer doing League cricket. I also did a good standard of youth cricket in midweek.`12 years later I qualified to become an examiner and and assessor.
The older I got the less time I spent on my feet.
These days, I only play in my dreams.
On reflection I found officiating to be rather joyless. I was never on the losing side but I was never on the winning side either.