Frances Farmacy

I'm sitting here disgusted with everything and everyone, remarking on what a shitty stupid day it is. Then I realize I forgot to take my pill this morning.

I am a big believer in transparency (within reason) so I will tell you that I was recently 'diagnosed' with recurring depression, more specific to anxiety. I tend to go through this cycle every few years...I get depressed, experience an epiphany, the honeymoon ends, and then I'm back to BooHooville.

The first time it happened, I had just been broken up with by my highschool boyfriend and then became this obsessive, paranoid, completely irrational psychopath. I knew even as it was happening that it was pretty fucked up but I couldn't take control of it. Several years later, I experienced another break up that really broke my heart. So it was several months of "woe is me" until I threw in the towel and asked my doctor for help. It was totally different. I was just emotionally detached and stoic for 8 months (for the record, we only dated for three months, I fell hard in those days). This time...it's really hard to say. I'm a lot different in my distress, maybe it's because it's not due to heartbreak this time around. It's like the disorder has aged itself like a fine wine...Sense the sarcasm, prithee.  I freak out really easily, am the world's worst backseat driver, my sense of the "world is a scary place" is morbidly enhanced, and I'm picking at my hair obsessively. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm in my bell jar, but something's definitely rotten in Denmark.

So more pills...even though it's now anxiety instead of sadness, I've been put on the same pills as before. Cipralex. Escitalopram. I was on it for three days when it kicked in. Wayne was driving me and the kids around and some truck cut us off pretty close. Instead of grabbing my seat, gasping, and bracing myself for impact, I'm like "Hmm what a dick." So I guess it's doing some good, though I realize it's just masking what I'm feeling.

I am turning into a Stepford wife.

I realize there's a stigma around anti-depressants but I don't really care. If something is taking that super sensitive almost naked fear away, it is benefitting me more than character-building ever will.

I'm not crazy, I just have issues. I guess what I'm saying is that if any of you are having or have had issues with depression, anxiety, all that fun stuff, it's a lot more common than you'd think. I think I know more people who are on them then not these days. Y'all ain't alone. Look at me. Now run away. Hopefully when this round is over it'll be a long honeymoon...the next one could involve mint julips, calling everyone "dear", and the Church of Jesus Christ & Latter Day Saints. I don't recommend you admit to knowing me when that time comes, it won't be pretty.

I just totally censored myself!

I wrote a sizable post an hour ago and posted it...then deleted it. I re-read what I wrote and I'm not ready to fully confront my anxiety problem. I'm a woman with many worries over things that pale in comparison to the shit other people are dealing with in the world. My problems are lucky compared to some of that.

I saw my Nanny today. She's doing poorly. It's like she did a 180 in a month. It's strange to see her behaving this way. Now when she sees me, she's not 'happy' to see me because she loves me, but she's 'happy' to see me because she's being polite. She's so confused and her hearing is almost completely shot. She's become very negative and defensive. She was disgusted by her supper when weeks ago she was so delighted with the exact same meal. Instead of laughing off my mom's silly banter with her, she got accusatory and offended. And she can't help it. She was very sweet with the kids though, she even remembered that there were twins in the family. She knew of my nephew Nelson.

I wonder how much of her I actually saw. I wonder if she internalized a lot of her thoughts when she was younger and in better health. I wonder if she loved her life. I hope so.

In other news, my son is going to give me a heart attack by the time I'm 35. He has to try running onto the road. He has to stand up on my mom's bed and walk backwards. He has to try climbing out of the bed of my dad's parked truck. I am a nervous wreck and I wish he could for once sit quietly reading a book or be content playing with Rayna in one place. But that wouldn't be him.

Did anyone else grab the popcorn when they announced Bin Laden was dead? Or was I being insensitive on that one? What's next?