Chemical Dependency

Increasingly, over the last several years, I find that the maintenance of my health requires prescription medications. Thyroid conditions, birth-control pills - all of a sudden, half the things in my body seem to need external assistance with their proper functioning. During the period a few years back when my migraines were really bad, I had a combination of 5-6 different medications to take on a semi-regular basis. I would look at my sink and think, "What does an able-bodied twentysomething woman need with all these drugs?" I felt very old, and sickly. These days, though, my meds are down to three, and there's only one of them that really bothers me.

I've struggled with depression since I was a young child, and a few years back decide to finally head in for some overdue counseling. I hadn't exactly looked down on therapy before, I just wasn't sure that I would find a therapist who understood my worldview and could help mw work through my issues in a way that was consistent with my faith. But it worked out pretty well - I found a series of good psychologists I could trust, and I found that my experience was very positive overall.

But anti-depressants? That was another matter. I had a lot of hang-ups about meds for my mind; I didn't like the idea of having to rely on a drug to alter my mental state and keep me functional. I know there's no shame in it, I have family members who are on anti-depressants and friends who have considered it, and I've never looked down on any of them. But somehow, for me, it felt like that would be a failure, a sign of my weakness and inability to control my emotions like a normal human being should be able to. I thought that would be the final signal that there was really, truly something fundamentally wrong with me, and that would justify why other people never seemed to treat me the way that I wanted.

Well, I guess there is something fundamentally wrong with me, because after a few months trial on anti-depressants and a few months unintentional hiatus as I switched doctors and tried to get all my prescriptions re-ordered, I'm discovering that I just don't cope as well without them. And I do feel ashamed, especially now that I realize I need them to stay on an even keel - before, it was just a trial and something that seemed to help me out a little, but now I feel dependent, and I hate knowing that I can't respond to things without crying and being hypersensitive unless I'm being chemically aided. Blah blah blah imbalance, blah blah blah there's no such thing as normal - tell most people on the street that you can't get through the day without bursting into tears over something, and you can just see the "emotional freakshow" warning sign start flashing in their brain. No matter how much people like you, even if they love you, no one wants to be around a depressed person for very long.

And that's at the heart of the thing I'm still struggling with, even after all the therapy: I don't believe that anyone would really accept me as I am, moody, overweight, opinionated, bossy, messy. I know that's probably partly the depression talking, and that I only listed bad qualities there; but no one stops hanging around me because I'm too nice, or too friendly. I want to know that there's one person in my life who will be able to look at me and still see that I'm beautiful, fun, sweet, smart and loveable, no matter what other aspects of my personality might be on display. And I feel so tired and so frustrated and so alone when I have to keep fixing myself to be what everyone says I should be; no matter how hard I try, I just don't seem to be doing it right enough.

At any rate, I hope this stuff starts kicking in soon, because this week is off to a crappy start so far.

Denying My Countrymen

The Olympics are the worst time for me to be an American. Somehow, watching us exhibit our sportiness on the international stage builds up this huge tidal wave of anti-American sentiment that I would never exhibit at any other time. I'm rooting for everyone else to beat us, and part of me is sad every time we do well. It's a little disturbing, really; and what's more, it's not something that has been with me all my life. I remember the 1984 Olympics and how excited I was about everything - I think my family must have taped at least half of the TV coverage, certainly all of the swimming and gymnastics and probably a good portion of the track and field - and I loved America back then. I loved that the games were here, I loved our teams, and i think it might have been one of the last times I remember really loving the Olympics themselves.

Now they make me feel disillusioned, jaded. I'm still not over the professional athletes thing; I hate how much, despite the way everyone talks about showing off the global community and international spirit, the Games make so clear the disparity between rich and poor nations; I hate that the IOC lets China decide what Taiwan ought to be called. I hate Olympic commentators, because they fill the airwaves with stupid, stupid, not even midly entertaining blather. I hate NBC's super-hyper-America-centric coverage, as if no one in this country wants to see anyone else but us. (What's that joke about how Americans doesn't understand the term "other countries"?) I hate that, in the parade of nations, they cut away when all these little, obviously unimportant countries are marching, but they'd never even think of cutting away during America's or Australia's million-man marches. I hate that the parade of nations reminds me that the United States, a supposed democracy, holds numerous territories where the people who live there are governed by laws they have no ability to help make or change.

When did I become so bitter?

I don't know why I can't see the good in the Olympics. Well, that's not totally true; I just can't see the good in America's part in the Olympics, at least not most of the time. I was really moved by Japan's win in the men's team gymnastics finals and, I loved South Africa's win in the swimming relay the other day. I like the underdog stories, that's part of it, but I also like the fact that the South Africans wiped that smug look off of Michael Phelps's face. But why did Japan only matter in the last round, when they beat the American men? This team went from 7th place after the 2nd rotation to a gold medal; that must have been some beautiful gymnastics. Why didn't I see more of it? Am I just watching the wrong NBC channel, and maybe if I tune into USA, it'll be better?

I remember how we used to look forward to every 4 years, the Olympics are coming! It was a big deal, we all dropped everything to watch it. It was like the space shuttle going up, but for 2 whole weeks. Now, the space shuttle gets an AP news item, and nobody stops to care unless it blows up. What happened to the world, and to me?