Friends, Romans, mothers, husbands, family, countrymen:
When a woman you know, let’s call her jarbaby, hits the Berlin Wall of mood swings for some unknown reason…think for a second before you ask her:
Well, did you take your medication?
Yes. I fucking took my medication. I take it every day. It keeps me from locking myself in the house and crying at The Price Is Right. I took it this morning, like I did yesterday, like I will tomorrow. I am a Celexa Cyborg.
And you know, I thought we covered this: the medication, contrary to how much I wish it were true, does not make me perfect again. It does not make me the old jarbaby of 1999/2000. I thought that it would. I thought it was working in a lovely fashion. We’ve been having a fun Fall thanks to Pharmaceuticals.
But kids, today, I’m sorry to say, it did not work. The even keel became a nose dive into the Marianna Trench. I hate this day, I hate my job, my coworkers. I screwed something up big time that I don’t know if it can be fixed, I skipped going to the gym because I’m big fat lazy slob, and I’m depressed.
yes, even with my medication I’m depressed. And all I wanted was a word of encouragement or assurance.
Not you fucking asking me if I’ve been a good girl and swallowed the happy pill.