Keep on, keeping on.

*Warning: Adult Language Ahead*

A lot of people live with things that they are not very proud of. It could be a past choice that they made that didn't work out the way they wanted, a medical condition they don't want to discuss, or a habit they hide or can't break.

For me it's the wonderful wacky world of Depression. This sneaky Bastard runs rampant in my family like Al Gore trying to selling carbon credits at a Hummer dealership. Now some of us have started using anti-depressants and they work wonders for them. I am happy for these people, if you manage to go your entire day and not attempt to punch someone in the face, You Sir are a winner. I however am currently not able to go to a doctor to get a magical prescription because I don't have health insurance; so if I'm not crying, I'm pushing down the urge yell at my neighbors for being..........neighbors.

But there is also a problem that taunts most of us, the dreaded evil little monkey called Side Effects. If there is even a chance that something other than the ideal outcome of a medication is possible, it's going to happen in my family. Let me give you a sampling of some of the shenanigans that have happen over the years of pill popping in our little clan.

• 1985: My mother had some dental work done and was prescribed Percocet. A hour after taking the first one she was on the phone with a friend when she noticed a small hole in our dining room where she had been sweeping. The hole, no bigger than a dime, had been left when the cable guy had drilled in the wrong place to run some wire. As the conversation went on she noticed that the hole was getting bigger and bigger, after fifteen minuets she saw what looked like a giant dog's nose peeking through the hole which was still getting larger. After twenty minuets a snout was coming through the hole. This went on and on until Mom asked her friend if they could "Please hold while I beat this giant bear out of my house". Thus commenced ten minuets of watching my twenty-nine year old mother beat the wall of our dinning room with a corn husk broom. Hallucinations, check.


• 1997: Uncle H. has heart surgery, pain medication of the VA's choice, Morphine. What a ride! We would visit him every single day and every single day he would beg one of us not to leave because "the nurses are planning to steal my organs and sell them to the Chinese". Auditory Hallucinations, check.


• 1995: Grandmother is dying, there is no way to sugarcoat it, she is simply dying. She's in pain and the doctors have prescribed a cocktail of medications to keep her comfortable. She has developed a belief that she is living in an episode of Gunsmoke.


• 1998: Mom is officially depressed and the antidepressant of the day is Zoloft. She is suddenly not sad anymore, however she is now verbally abusive and critical of everything. She no longer laughs. My wonderful parent is now an After School Special villain. We flush the Zoloft.


• 1992: Aunt J. is put on Redux, the new be-all end-all weight loss pill. After six months of perfectly following the pill routine and the lower calorie diet that was prescribed with the medication, Aunt J. has lost FIVE pounds. A person on this treatment plan should have lost Eighty.

Now I know that there are ways to naturally fight off depression and raise your serotonin level, like exercising. It sounds simple, right? But what if you are so paralyzed by the depression that you can't leave the house? Roughly ninety percent of the time I am terrified of leaving our apartment, I still do but it fucking scares me. I could say that I'm going to grab this thing by the balls and run until I'm well, but I would be a liar. Honestly all I can do wake up every morning and if I manage that it still a good day. If I leave the house it's a better day. If I go for a walk it a fanfuckingtastic day!

So, there you go.

ps

I have no idea why two words in this post are yellow. I guess they are the zazziest words at the party.