Dispute not with her: she is a lunatic.

So, remember we talked the other day about Dr. Lady-Business and how I escaped with my parts all intact? Yay, right? Oh, I sent the men away that day. Well, men, sorry, I guess you might  not want to click up there because it’s about lady parts and such. ANYWAY. So yeah, those of you that remember that situation, that was a total check in the win column for me, right? Instead of major invasive surgery that would leave me as barren as a wind-swept plain, I got a prescription for pills and a fare-thee-well! +1, Dr. Lady-Business, +1.

Well, I started taking the pills that night. And the next day, some strange things happened.

First, things started being very, very upsetting. No, not just “things.” Everything. And by “upsetting,” I mean “I would start weeping uncontrollably at the drop of a hat.” Partial list of things that made me cry (and I’m not talking polite tears, here, people, I’m talking snotty boo-hooing) over the past 36 hours:

  • Sam getting his soul back on an old episode of Supernatural that I just got around to watching
  • How expensive groceries are
  • How funny this show I was watching was and how happy I was to be watching it and how sad it was that EVERYONE COULDN’T BE WATCHING IT, EVERYONE!
  • How far away Tuesday is
  • How long it took my cellphone to charge
  • The person who rudely pulled out in front of me out of turn at the grocery store
  • The fact that my cellphone keypad is so small and I always hit the wrong letters
  • Talking to my father on the phone about things that weren’t even sad
  • The local news
  • A gigantic copy job I was given at work
  • Someone asking “are you ok?”
  • Seeing a photo of someone I don’t like
  • Getting a text from someone I love and miss

I’m self-aware enough to know that THIS ISN’T NORMAL. I mean, in a regular day, I might tear up once or twice. And honestly, it’s usually over a TV show, because I’m a sap. But most of the time it’s because I’ve laughed so hard I’ve brought myself to tears.

Then, flip-side! TOTAL RAGE.

Things that enraged me:

  • The grocery bag boy who talks too loud (in retrospect, I feel kind of bad because I’m pretty sure he’s mentally challenged)
  • How slow my computer was loading because I had something I wanted to watch now dammit
  • My cat jumping up and landing directly on my diaphragm because that shit is PAINFUL
  • How incredibly idiotic this one guy seemed every time he opened his mouth
  • My alarm clock
  • Stupid email forwards with subject lines like “LOL YOU GOTTA READ THIS”
  • And everything on the list above, after I’d finished weeping, except Supernatural, my father, the funny show, and the text message 

Also, I can not sleep. This isn’t completely out of the ordinary – I’ve had insomnia since I was in my early teens – but I mean, now, to the point of laying there thinking about all kinds of stuff and jerking myself awake because I think I’m falling and waking up an hour later because I had a sad dream and being very upset AND THEN FURIOUS.

So, the logical conclusion after two nights of this, of course, was that I was losing my mind.

I was kind of distressed about this. I mean, I like my mind! It’s a good mind! It does a lot of things well! I mean, sure, it gets weird about some things, and hung up unneccessarily on things that aren’t all that important? But overall, I was a total winner in the mind lottery. And now I was losing it! Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do! Was I going to have to go to the mental institution? Because I didn’t think I would be able to handle that. I mean, I saw Girl, Interrupted. That place was annoying. I mean, there was that one girl with ROAST CHICKEN under her BED. That is UNSANITARY. And then Angelina Jolie with her charismatic insanity – well, you know I’d probably end up being one of her followers, what with my mind being all softened and all, and that wouldn’t end well. I’m pretty sure the chicken-under-the-bed-lady ended up committing suicide. (And wait, the actress died in real life, too, right? OH, NO, I CAN’T GO TO THE MENTAL INSTITUTION IT IS A KILLER PLACE.) 

And what would I do there? I mean, what do people DO in the insane asylum? Are you medicated all the time so you’re drooling? Do you have to see a therapist? Because I hate therapy, I always do it wrong and end up rambling and the therapist gets VERY FRUSTRATED. Are there puzzles? I would get bored of all puzzles, all the time. I mean, there’s only so many puzzles a person can do. I mean, side piece side piece side piece I AM SO BORED. Is there an actual padded room? I feel like I’d end up there a lot. I don’t think I would behave. Wouldn’t a padded room be totally restful? And also safe for someone as clumsy as myself. You’d have to hang out with crazies and you wouldn’t be able to get away from them, wouldn’t you? It would be like a long bus ride with NO STOPS. This is a VERY BAD IDEA.

There were also the crazy dreams, so maybe it wasn’t as much insanity as the gift of prophecy? Although you know if I got that I’d end up Cassandra and no one would believe me. I mean, last night, I had a dream that I went out with this guy I kind of dig (which is how I knew, even when I was in it, it wasn’t real – I even said in the dream, “How is this happening? You’d never go out with me, I’m too weird for you” to him) and apparently he was super-sensitive? I don’t know. He held up a CD and it was all the poetry I’d ever written and said “I’ve memorized this” and I was charmed by that. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN. Because let me tell you, if that shit happened in real life, I’d have a few questions. Like, how did you get all of that, stalker? And, who’s reading it on the CD, because I’ve never spoken most of that aloud anywhere but the privacy of my own home, so are you bugging my home? And you memorized it? Really? You seem to have a lot of free time. Do you have a job? Because the real-life you totally does. THIS SEEMS SUSPECT. So, as you can see, even though dream-me was all “oh, guy who seems kind of adorable in the abstract, you’re the sweetest, you like my poetry? We are soulmates” real-life me would not take this well. Therefore, my totally awesome potentially prophetic dreams better not be, because if this actually happens I’m going to mace someone. (Fine, Mr. or Mrs. Literal-and-Afraid-of-the-Idea-of-Me-With-a-Weapon, I don’t actually have mace. I have breath spray, though, and I think it would totally hurt if you sprayed it in someone’s eyes.)

This morning, as I was doing the COPY JOB FROM HELL and the copier was not cooperating so I punched it a couple of times (this is not encouraged behavior but the copier DESERVED it wait I’m sorry baby I didn’t mean it please don’t leave me) it crossed my mind that WAIT! These odd things that are happening to me? Coincided with the timing of the first new pill. And a lot of odd new things happening that happen once you take a new medication? They even have a NAME for that. SIDE EFFECTS. I work at a damn answering service. WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THIS SOONER.

So, as you do, I Wikipedia’d it. What, you’d call your doctor? You’d be on hold for freakin’-EVER if you did that. Wikipedia loads in like SECONDS. I mean, who has the time when you might be losing your mind and/or becoming prophetic?

Partial list of side effects from the medication I’m on: depression, mood swings, emotional instability, aggression, abnormal crying, insomnia, forgetfulness, sleep disorders, and back pain. (I left off the icky and weird ones because *knock on wood* I’m not experiencing those. “Rhinitis?” THAT SOUNDS HORRIFYING. Oh, wait, it’s a stuffy nose. Aw! Rhinitis! Now it sounds adorable, like a baby rhino disease. YES, I know rhino- is a Greek prefix for nose. Shut up, person who always knows all the stuff and assumes no one else does.)


OK, this is like the scariest, most distressing list of side effects ever. Per one of my Twitter friends: “Wow, PMS in pill form? That’s delightful!” It is. IT IS TOTALLY PMS IN PILL FORM. Only x100. Like, with PMS, I’m a little crotchety, but it’s something I can deal with. I mean, I would probably be very annoyed by someone acting like a total tool, but I wouldn’t cut a bitch for laughing too loud. I WANT TO CUT A BITCH FOR LAUGHING TOO LOUD RIGHT NOW.

Aggression? Really? A pill can induce aggression? Listen, I’m already totally aggressive. I don’t think this pill needs to encourage my natural propensity toward that. That could be disastrous. I can see myself just throwing myself out of the car window onto the roof of the car next to me and clinging there like a furious monkey baby for pulling out in front of me and then slowing down.

And then we have “abnormal crying.” I don’t…”abnormal”? Really? So I assume you mean the crying you’d do when being, say, bashed on your toe with a hammer is normal crying, but the crying I’ve been doing over, oh, I don’t know, NOT HAVING ANY SHREDDED CHEESE IN THE HOUSE THIS IS THE WORST NIGHT OF MY LIFEEEEEEE is abnormal?

Mood swings. Why don’t you just shut your goddamn mouth, list of side effects. If I needed your input I’d ask for it. Aw! List of side effects! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT’S LIKE PHYSICAL PAIN.

I’m really hoping that “sleep disorders” means “totally vivid and maybe prophetic dreams.” It does, right? It’s my list and I’ve decided so. I’m thinking you probably aren’t going to want to cross me today?

I’m not going crazy, I’m just taking a medication that makes me feel like I am. Well! That’s reassuring!

Listen, this is totally awesome. No, seriously. I can’t think of anything more awesome. So I’m going to go cry about it? Probably for the next 45 minutes or so? Keep an eye on things around here for me. I think I’ll be back to normal in approximately two weeks. Better living through pharmaceuticals, ladies and gentleman, it’s a wonderful world we live in!

(Title’s from Shakespeare, King Richard III. Thanks, Will! Love you to pieces and NOW I’M CRYING AGAIN DAMMIT.)

About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

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