I suffer (and I do mean suffer) with depression. No, actually, let me get that straight.
I suffer with Major Depression, Severe, Recurrent. God forbid I fuck up the billing.
I get it now that I’ve had this pretty much my whole life. I have a ‘chemical imbalance’, which is code for my gut doesn’t work like it should and never has. Most of the good stuff that the body secretes/absorbs has to be ‘taken up’ through the lining of the intestines. If your intestines aren’t straight, good odds that your brain/mood isn’t straight either. My gut hasn’t been straight (of course not, I’d be taller than my house, har har) since I was a very young child; therefore, I’ve had a screw loose for a long time, if not several screws.
As I’m pretty sure I’ve written before, I was over 30 before I decided, okay, I’d try the drugs. I was terrified of “not being myself anymore.” Yeah, that’s a genius idea, right there. MYSELF WAS MISERABLE, DUH! What the hell would be so wrong with being something else at that point? SERIOUSLY?? And when I sat in that office and heard the part shock, part admiration, part envy, part awe, part holy-shit-are-you-nuts of the shrink’s voice when I told him I’d never tried an antidepressant before, well, I felt the same way he did about that fact.
After a few years of being someone new (thank God), I’m just happy I finally did it, and I’m still very aware of what it would be like for me if I wasn’t doing it. Not just because I remember, but also because every once in a while, something will happen to cause me to miss a dose or two or spread them out too far or or or. And because it’s fun that way, that usually happens in the midst of a shitpot full of stressful situations that are happening at the same time (because, hullow, that’s when we all tend to forget little things like eating and taking our pills at the right times — coincidentally, I take my pills when I eat, so forget to eat and what happens… it ain’t rocket science). And then, all of a sudden – WHAM-O. I start crying for no reason and feeling ever so slightly batshit.
So let me tell you, Mr. Cruise and all your fucktwat compatriots, SUCK IT. I don’t have a vitamin imbalance. I don’t need a week of detox in a steam room full of blue snow cone syrup or whatever the crap you alien people are shoveling. The rest of us are INDIVIDUALS whose bodies weren’t put together by pod people sitting on swiss cheese and working the assembly line at the Humans R Us plant. My body is broken, and if it weren’t for this drug, my mind would be in sharp little shards all over the floor that shred my feet if I attempt to move. You FOOLS go on and on (Hello, Ms. Sarandon, I believe this is your seat) about how ‘those pills’ don’t let a person feel anything. How the sam hell do you know? Have you ever been me? Have you ever felt like someone is trying to kill you from the inside out? and been helpless as you can only watch it happening? Have you ever been so damn tortured by depression that you almost entirely detach from reality and the people who love you and want to help you but are powerless to do so? Those pills gave the first opportunity in my life to have all of that slow down and quiet down enough that I could attempt to take some control over things again — so I could even ATTEMPT to feel again. Before them, I didn’t FEEL, I simply somehow managed to keep breathing.
I’m having a shitty day. I have several stressful situations happening at once. I forgot to eat yesterday, so I think I only got one pill in me instead of two. I think I forgot to eat the day before, and I think the same might have happened then. I’m feeling betrayed (yet again) my the medical community because some stupid office people won’t listen to me and have kept me from speaking to my own doctor who told me she wanted to talk to me in 3 days — 2 weeks ago. I’m soon to be forced to go sit in a court room, just waiting for someone to ask me if I’ve ever been the victim of a sexual assault — because answering that question in a room full of people I don’t know and having it be on a court transcript for the rest of time is JUST how I wanted to spend my afternoon but is possibly better than the alternative of having them NOT ask me and ending up on a freaking jury — outstanding options. I’m late getting my kid’s paperwork to the new school. Why? Because I’m terrified of it and don’t want to face that it’s entirely possible I’m making the biggest mistake of my child’s life (and please don’t tell me that you’re sure I’m not because it will only piss me off). And to top it off, I’m sitting here bitching and moaning like I have nothing better to do, after I’ve forced my kid to go to his after-school program that he doesn’t like and will not socialize at pretty much no matter what. All because I can’t get my shit straight enough at the moment to get done the stuff I need to get done and go get him, which all makes me feel like the worst mother on the planet.
So, because I need to take it out on someone, and there is just simply no more deserving person in the world for this particular thing, I can only conclude with: Tom Cruise can Suck It.
(***btw, I have a feeling I’ve written this post before and the feeling that I’ll probably write it again, and anyone who doesn’t like it can stand across from Tommy and suck the other end.)
I gotta go back to work.