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A Pill, A Drink and Humor Can Get One Through Anything!

Updated on June 30, 2011

If It Helps...

My Happy Pill
Maybe you've heard when life gives you lemons, grab the blender, the salt and make Margarita's! Well, that works for some women but I prefer my happy pill.

I spent years thinking that I was insane. I would obsess about everything and anything and it wouldn't stop until around 2:00 each morning. I would relive the entire day with all of it's mishaps and role play ways in which I could have handled a situation differently. I would replay a glitch I experienced over a hundred different times, always hoping for a different ending, which never came to be.

I would cry over the littlest failure and beat myself up endlessly for not being perfect. Then, one day, after talking to my doctor about my miserable self he suggested an anti-anxiety pill. I was skeptical at first; not wanting to become dependent on a medication that controlled my brain. Yet, I couldn't turn my brain off and therefore, I knew I had no control over it either.

I swallowed the pill with water the next morning. Nothing. Day two. Nothing. Day three. Nothing. This continued on until about the 7th day; I slept through the night. I didn't cry as much. By the second week, I was able to handle situations that used to knock me out at the knees and blindside me. I had found it. The happy pill. It wasn't the it'lltakeallyourproblemsawayandyou'llnevercryagainorbesadagain kind of pill. It took the edge off. I could control myself a little better. Not completely, but enough to sleep at night.

It's Okay to be Selfish...isn't it?
Women around the world have been cursed. From the moment we peek outside of the vaginal canal, we are given a curse; that every one's needs come before our own.

I was raised with Catholic guilt. I was going to hell for everything I did. For swearing. For stealing dimes from my mother's purse. For eating Twinkies in the dark in my closet. I went to confession weekly to profess my sorrow over the things that I kept repeating week after week. Finally, the priest in exasperation told me I had been forgiven and to stop coming back and confessing the same sins each time. I realized that my relationship with God needn't come by means of confessing to a dotted screen and a man wearing black behind it. I needed to talk to God myself and I did.

The first thing I found out in my relationship with God is that I need to take care of myself, otherwise I am no good for anyone else around me. I must love myself in order to receive and understand love from another. I must give to myself in order to appreciate the feeling of giving to someone else. I must watch out for my own health and expand my own mind in order to deliver information to others about these areas. How could I teach if I knew nothing about it personally?

It is okay to be selfish once in a while. It feels damn good

Okay, I don't drink after all...
I admit. I don't drink. Many do for pleasure and many do to get rid of stress. I don't think that water or coffee constitute a "drink" to most people. I use humor.

Humor; while sarcastically putting one in their place and making myself feel better at the same time. It's a life saver! Have you ever been in one of those situations where you are watching a person's mouth move non-stop but can't hear their words because the blood in your head feels like it's trying to find a way out so it can burst on the ceiling above you? I have.

Or, when you are hearing an admonishment about something you have done and you disagree but can't do so outwardly and honestly? I have.

I used sarcasm/humor as a way of defusing the situation and myself. It usually gives me a quick exit and if I can't leave, a quick leave just for a second while I get myself under mental and emotional control. I always hope it elicits a giggle or a laugh from everyone involved and if it doesn't, then I pray that I don't get the dreaded nickname of bitch. If I do however, being a bitch isn't always the end of the world.

To "B" or not to "B"
The "B" of course means bitch. A female dog. To gripe or complain. A nasty woman. Hmmmm... which one of these could they mean?

I have found that when people don't agree with me or find my opinions to be stronger than their own comfort level, I become a bitch. I attach the label to others as well. If I have been waiting with my blinker on for 5 minutes for someone to pull their slow moving vehicle out of the much needed and anticipated parking spot and some young chick whips into my spot without glancing my way; she's a bitch.

If I am being told that I need to do something beyond my comfort level and against my wishes, then the person drilling me at that moment is a bitch.

Sometimes, I feel like a bitch. When life is one, I become one. I am snappy, angry and tend to take my mood out on those I love and care for most. Thank goodness it doesn't happen very often or I believe my key to the house would be stolen and never returned!

I don't mind being friends with bitches either. They get things done. They aren't afraid to speak up for those being treated unjustly. Sometimes, being a bitch isn't all bad.

Wife is not a title
When I got married, I thought that I could maintain my own identity and he would continue his, but our joining in marriage would mean a sharing of our lives and an intertwining of ideas and experiences. Boy, was I in for a big surprise!

I married the wrong person, granted. I also lost myself in the process. Years after the divorce I am still looking for the real me. I still believe in happily ever after, although I am beginning to get suspicious about all of those happy endings in the Disney movies. I revisit memories of boyfriends past and wonder whose fault it was any way (sounds like a mini-series, doesn't it?)? I struggle with my role in my present relationship; I have a lot of "manly" tendencies like being strong, independent and willful...does that make me a bad partner? Will I show him up if I can do something better?

I have learned from my past and it tells me that the only title I should wear is my own name. Mrs., Ms., teacher, mother, wife, girlfriend, etc. are all hats that I wear during my lifetime. In order to wear these hats correctly and properly, I must identify with my own personal title; the one that tells people who I am and the one that I will be known by for the rest of my life. If I can't be true to myself, then I am a fake; a phony. That would be the greatest injustice for myself and those that I influence.

Pills, drinks, laughs, counseling, running, eating, crying....whatever makes you a better person and allows you to take a hold of your life without destroying it further is your key to becoming a better and happier person. Take the reins and enjoy the ride!


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