I Took The Happy? Pill

I didn’t want to. I hate the idea. Plus I will be a zombie for entire weekend. I’ve had the prescription for months, but thought I could handle everything the life and my brain were throwing at me.

I was wrong. At lunch today, in the car, I fell apart. I had been holding it in since this morning when my son told me he wished he was dead. The Crohn’s disease, the social isolation, the uncertainty of life has caused him to be anxious, depressed, and inclined to hurt himself.

This has happened more than once. And at 3 a.m. this morning, we were sitting on the bed crying together. Granted, he is sick. He says he has terrible insomnia and cannot sleep. I have been distracted by my own selfish dramas. Neither of us are doing well. But I decided right then, I had to do something. It was really hard to leave him and just go to work today.

He has tried two different antidepressants himself … both with ill effects. I called the doctor and he advised that we take him to the hospital, which is what I was afraid of. They may admit him. And if that saves his life, he may hate me forever. But he’ll be alive.

I feel like I am drowning in an emotinal whirlpool… and the last thing I was going to grab was a bottle of pills. But I’ve tried everything else. I’ve been crying every day for two weeks now. I have a lot of reasons to cry, but I can’t solve anything that way.

I have no illusions that the pill I took is going to make me “happy”… or even help me for weeks. But I had to do someithing. I have to be able to think clearly, and look past my own sadness for a solution to this. I am not going to lose my son. No matter what I have to do. Even if I have to grow up, set an example, and follow my own doctor’s instructions. I just hope it helps.

It’s obvious to me I am not doing much better than he is. And I can’t help him that way.

The Insight Of Experience

I think people come into your life for a reason. At the time, you usually don’t even think about why that might be. But when they are gone, especially if it hurts, you start asking yourself, what just happened? What did I do? How could I be so stupid? What is their problem? What is my problem? What was the point in that? 

Some things end up feeling like a huge mistake, or some weird universal joke you aren’t in on. And it is very easy to bask in your self-pity and/or heartbreak. But between crying jags, it’s important to ask yourself, is there something to learn from this? For instance, don’t lend friends money. I learned that the hard way. You’ll never see either one of them again.

I recently met someone who had more to teach me than I realized. It didn’t end well. I regret that, because it was my fault. But I think I came away from it with a much better understanding of myself. I learned how easily someone can hurt me, if I let them. I learned that I should keep my guard up in the future. I learned that I should SLOW DOWN. I discovered a side of myself I never knew. And I learned that sometimes I am my own worst enemy.

Of course, some memories have nothing to teach us. They just are: a once happy memory, maybe tinged with regret and thoughts of what could have been. Memories of loss. Nostalgia. Sentiment. Memories of suffering we will never understand. Wrongs we can never make right. Memories of people we will always miss.

But it is only human nature that we try to get answers. Without trying to gain some insight, it would all be for nothing. After all, our experiences are but tiny stars in the sky for us to gaze upon and wonder.

Of course, some of them twinkle more brightly.

Why I Deleted My MySpace Account

For one, I am an adult. And the ‘friends’ I was meeting on there were men looking to get laid and not much else. I had only a few people on there I considered real “friends” and we’ll still talk. I doubt my son is going to care. I doubt anyone else will notice. Except maybe stalkers who need to get a life. I decided to.

The second reason is that MySpace is creepy. Old men are looking at my profile and sending me emails. Some people think that because you have one thing in common, you should meet up at Sonic for Flurries and be BFFs. No one I care about ever sends me a MySpace IM, except my nephew. And he has my email address.

The final reason I deleted it is because I honestly don’t want to be found. If someone is out there looking for me, well, look harder. I want to be anonymous, faceless, friendless, offline and logged out. I don’t want to have a list of my favorite bands and TV shows up for the world to see. The world doesn’t give a shit. I feel like I am shamelessly self-promoting myself to others who are just not worth the time and effort, and why? This isn’t high school. Do I need someone’s approval? Is there a set standard I must conform to? Why advertise myself like I am trying to impress someone?

I just feel there is no reason for a grown 42 year old woman to have a MySpace account, unless you sell sex toys. If you have something to say, great. Write a blog. No one will really care about that either.