Ok, if you are over 40-how many of you are on ’meds’?
That’s current lingo for my doctor does not want to listen to me rant and rave about my life or my aches and pains so they put me on Zoloft, or Paxil, or Prozac, or Wellbutrin, or…..
It seemed like a rite of passage for me and most of my 40 plus pals to be put on meds when we started going to our MD’s and telling them about our most recent newly weird bodily functions and our stressfull lives. Now that they won’t put you on Premarin, they give you the next best thing. The Happy Pill.
Yep-that my friends, is the answer to all of our problems.
After a couple of glasses of wine and discussions, I have been amazed at how many people I know have been prescribed these at one time or another. And our teenagers—that in and of itself is another post. See this Huffington Post article — Scary.
And now they have antidepressants for your antidepressants.
Never mind standing up to your kids. Never mind telling your husband you are too tired for the big wiggle. Never mind the stack of laundry, the fact that your teenager has low self-esteem, your kitchen should be condemned, you eat gluten-filled crap all day. You have no serotonin and this will fix all of that.
Our generation was brought up in a Disney world – everything is HAPPY dammit. You should NOT have stress in your life. Stress kills. Not that having a job, or raising kids, or a mortgage, car payments, health issues, parents aging, or anything remotely like that is easy. Hell, our parents didn’t have microwaves, disposable diapers, car seats, dishwashers, the list goes on. They did have cocktail hour at 5 o’clock and in my home, you NEVER disturbed mom and dad between 5-6pm. I think we should get back to that. God forbid we put the adult relationship first these days.
So we take them-because, you know, that doctor knows everything-and then we begin to wonder why we are eating more. And drinking more. And tolerating more. It is because we DON’T FUCKING CARE about anything anymore.
I could cry at a Disney movie. Send me a heart-wrenching You Tube video and the blubbering and snot would start. I used to cry at toilet paper commercials. God forbid one of those Johnson and Johnson baby bath commercials came on…
I can now watch The Notebook all the way through, do my nails, eat a bag of Frito’s, play Bejewelled and no tears here. I mean it.
So after a couple of years on these, and the lack of drive (to do anything, much less the ‘wiggle’), I’ve decided they aren’t for me anymore.
I want to cry at movies. I want to care that my teen blew her curfew and scream bloody murder at her. I want to lose weight. I want to wear makeup again. I want to do the wiggle more often than once a year under the Christmas tree.
Revel in the stress. There are ways to fix that. How about exercise? My dogs would love that. Make the stress productive. Don’t let it win.
Buy yourself some flowers. And shoes–they never judge.
I want to CARE again. Screw the doctors. I’m going to watch The Notebook.