My life as a whiny dramatic twat

So I'm going to throw out there something about myself that is not any kind of news flash, but I should remind myself of now and again.

I have been on medication for generalized anxiety disorder since May or June of "last year". About 6 months now. Anyone who knew anything about me- was supportive of me taking meds to control my 'moods' (aka: chest pains, crying spells, and overall freaking out on a daily basis). After the first two weeks, marked by hot flashes, nausea and hyperactivity, were over- I started to feel a little more normal. I think I handled my son leaving pretty well, as well as my best friend moving away- and even the remainder of the co-habitation and eventual excising of the e-husband. I "anxieteed" less. Every one is happy. Nobody gets phone calls anymore crying in the middle of the night and I think I've only tried to "eat until the hurting stops"- once.
With dinosaur fruit snacks.
Hardly even a cry for help.

So for all persons involved, the meds have been a good thing. I am a firm believer that mental 'issues' are real- even if it means I'm a bit psycho.

But lately I have stopped taking my meds. Not stopped all together, but stopped remembering to take them on a daily basis. I forget on the weekends, and then by lunch time on Monday- my chest is as tight as I WISH my ass was. My hands get shaky and I want to tell my boss, who sits facing me (our desks are facing each other like Eddie and his dead brother in Who Framed Roger Rabbit) that I want to throw a pocket full of pennies at her. I take them for a few days, then forget for a few days- on again, off again.

I admit, some of my writing gets better when I fall into this 'dark place'. I become incredibly 'creative' and sometimes insightful. However, I also become more self destructive for my own good. I have no good reason for forgetting to take these pills. I carry them in my purse. They are my American Express Card- and I jokingly refer to them as my 'bitch pills' (the Xanax are my 'crazy pills'- for those really special moments). I am not in denial, I am not resistant to treatment, I am glad to take them because I whole heartedly agree that I am a whiny dramatic twat when I don't take them. I like myself a LOT better when I'm medicated to indifference. And I think other people like me better too- cause I will actually come around people and not hide out from the cruel cruel world.

So what gives? Am I just too lazy to take the pill? Am I trying to convince myself that I don't need them? Perhaps I like the 'creativity' that I get when I don't take them. But either way, it's no way to live. I'm not going to lose my mind, or live in constant state of "chick"- just so I can write dark and dirty sex stories, albeit fantastic ones.

I work in a hospital. A patient today claimed that they ran out of meds two months ago. Hello?? No, you just stopped taking them. You "run out of meds" for two or three days. After two months, you've just stop taking them. I have a husband who was non-compliant with medications and treatment that his issues are permanent. I know first AND second hand, how much damage comes from not taking your meds. So much for my high horse. I'm just as irresponsible as the next person when it comes to a daily pill.

Now that I know I can't get knocked up, no matter how many guys I screw- the concept of a daily pill has lost it's importance.

I did take it today- for the first time in 4 days and it's like someone laced my coffee with speed. I should be back to normal tomorrow.

Oh, and I'm trying to find a good dick joke to call in to Golf Widow and Andy. The choices are endless. Any suggestions??

Peace Out.