2024, for me, was a milestone-year marking sincere attempts to trim brain fat while in pursuit of improved mental well-being.
I started using Prozac and meeting with a mental health therapist. I had never sought mental therapy before, nor had I taken antidepressants. If Tony Soprano could see a therapist and accept Prozac, so could I. This revelation arrived while re-watching the entire series of The Sopranos for the third time.
Taking my medicine and talking to a therapist have made a positive difference. I find myself enjoying life more. I find myself grateful for my present state.
A few days after my first twist of the Prozac cap, I sensed a gradual giddiness with each step taken during a walk through the neighborhood. The Bose blast of Jimmy Buffett music made me feel even sunnier than it had before. Halfway through, I realized a smile was stretching my face. I called my daughter to report this strange surge of happiness. If anyone deserved an overdue dose of dad positiveness, it was Delaney. How many times had she reminded me how when she was a little girl that I had once picked her “up by my ears” because of something upsetting she’d concocted? For the record, I did not pick her up by the ears … well not in the way you likely are imagining it. A possessor of a vivid imagination, my daughter. Beware, she is a writer. Never trust a writer. Trust me on that.
“I just called to tell you how good I feel. Happy. I’m smiling,” I said.
There was a semi-long pause then … until she finally replied, “Who is this person using my dad’s phone?”
“It’s your dad,” I said.
“Are you high? Are you drunk?”
“It’s your dad … on Prozac.”
Our columnist has rediscovered his near-physiological need for real books. (Photo provided by Scott Saalman)
In 2024, I became a better sleeper, dozing longer, even napping without guilt. A far cry from the little boy who would lie awake at night staring at the clock just so he’d know what time it was when he actually died. I’m a super fan of sleep now. As great as sleep feels, death can’t be all that bad. I no longer watch the clock from bed.
I now feel more focused on whatever task is at hand, personally or professionally. Things that once triggered me so easily and detrimentally don’t negatively affect me as much. I’m no longer an angst junkie, a raving reactionist. My world now has a more positive spin.
In 2024, I deactivated and deleted Facebook, despite its prickly presence since signing up in 2009. It took 15 years for me to realize that all the social media fat and bot BS being absorbed by my brain was actually absorbing my brain. I made enemies through Facebook – disliking people I never really knew well enough to deserve my disliking, my knee-jerk reactions due to opposition to something I had posted or simply because I didn’t like their word choices when responding to the ever-present chum-baited Facebook prompt, “What’s on your mind?”
I did make some new friends that I wouldn’t have met otherwise (we converse via text, email, or phone calls now), so some goodness was actually gained from my Facebook addiction. In hindsight, the insane amount of time I wasted posting, reading other people’s posts, and viewing videos of people doing asinine things (how many didn’t die doing what they did, I’ll never fathom) is downright scary.
Saying farewell to Facebook was liberating, although the first few days of freedom were shaky, making me realize how foolishly social-media reliant I’d become. I caught myself taking photos, even pulling the car over at times to do this, only to realize I had nowhere to post them. It was insightful to realize how trigger happy I’d become with the phone camera, how concerned I was with posting pictures on Facebook, all for the sake of seeking validation from others, rather than allowing myself to actually, truly live in the moment with those physically near me sharing that same moment.
Last summer, I began reading actual books with actual paper pages, something I’d stopped doing, probably because of spending significant time on Facebook or watching countless shows via streaming services. God invented trees so people could read.
Scott strongly encourages you to purchase Blue Rice by Frances Park, available on Amazon. (Photo provided by Scott Saalman)
One of the first concerns I shared with my therapist was the lack of balance I felt without books, a lost sense of true self. The solution was simple: make time to read again. I’ve read about 20 books since the summer, each finished book akin to the reclamation of valuable real estate in my brain. It’s a wonderful feeling to find myself lost in the wonder of books again. I have purchased many books in the past six months – and I’m actually reading them. A bestie of mine, the wonderful writer Frances Park, actually sent me a T-shirt on my birthday that states: ABIBLIOPHOBIA, THE FEAR OF RUNNING OUT OF BOOKS TO READ. Her latest novel, Blue Rice, is a masterpiece and is available on Amazon. You’ll be glad you read it.
2024 has put me on the right mental track for 2025.
What’s on my mind? Gratitude, for all those things mentioned above.
My daughter’s question, “Who is this person?”, still repeats in my mind. I’m finally figuring out the answer.
Email Scott at scottsaalman@gmail.com.
Sounds like you’re off to a good start for ’25 & congratulations on your recent untethering to social media.
Although .. don’t discount it’s most valuable of functions in a modern society ; the purging of unwanted furniture without having to transport it any further than the street.