“The opposite of play isn’t work. It’s depression.”
– Jane McGonigal

I don’t mind working. I really never have had a problem with it. I am certainly not an over-achiever, nor am I an extremely hard worker. I don’t feel the need to announce to the world every time I work a 12-hour day, work on a weekend, and I try to avoid responding with the seemingly obligatory, “It must be nice”, whenever I must work when someone else is off. I feel that many people believe that complaining about work makes them appear to be a hard worker, when in reality it makes them a complainer.

My work allows me to move around, get physical exercise, interact with people, and relieves me from being shut indoors. I work with a friend whom I have had for over fifteen years, so this makes working much more enjoyable. However, I do my best to enjoy work regardless of the circumstance. I appreciate even having the willingness to perform tasks, even when I don’t particularly want to do them.

I think that having spent significant periods of time in depression helps me to appreciate hard work….even if I don’t want to be working. Crippling depression can make you unable to work in any capacity, so even if I can work and bitch the entire time, I feel that this is a BIG improvement to laying in bed all day…or week…or month. Work is necessary for me to appreciate play.

Work is the sun with the sand.

The butter with the bread.

The ice cream with the cake.

The cool breeze on the run.

The choir with the gospel.

The weights with the cardio.

The cocaine with the whiskey.

Without work, is there really such thing as play?

If it’s all play, it’s just existence; there would be no classification for play.  If there is no classification for play, there is no comparison. Without comparison, there is no reason to appreciate the play.

Play is play, because of work. If you have the energy and drive to work, then the reward is play. For me, just having energy and drive is all the reward I will ever ask for, because depression is depression.

Depression is depression. There seems to be no other side to it. When in it, there is no opposite. No reward. No end. No alternative. No escape. No end.

Having experienced depression, sometimes I confuse work with play….and that’s seldom a bad thing.

Whatever your work, I hope that you will find some appreciation for your ability to perform it. You are probably much better at it then you give yourself credit.

Enjoy your work.

Enjoy your play.

Enjoy your day.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,