To Pill or Not to Pill

Anyone reading this blog (which I hvae serious doubts about) knows that the Barbie has enough issues in her life to fill a planet sized crater That was a good analogy. I don't want to underestimate.
Let's review:
* twice divorced with one ex who would gladly hire a hitman if he could afford it to worm his way out of court ordered lifetime support payments...a second ex presumed dead or in jail (which is where he belongs...more on that at a later date)
* a job where I eat the bitter fruit of racism daily...at present we are dueling with lawyers...lose and there goes the retirement $$$$
* a grown son with a debilitating mental disability who I must take care of
* lousy credit...not that I care to be shackled by credit cards anyway
* absolutely no family....except for all of my nameless, faceless cyber pals who exist only in my imagination
* a gigantic monkey on my back which keeps telling me what a wasteland my life has become
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I don't want to get trivial, so I'll omit the minor stuff. Besides you can read about it all in this blog. Considering all of the above, 'tis no wonder I am seeking help to soothe my shattered nerves. I think "talk therapy" is highly overrated but it's all I've got right now. Basically I must pay someone to listen to me as I regurgitate my problems. Once the vomitus problemus is all on the table, the theory is a solution will slither from the ooze like majick. Until that momemtous occurance materializes, (D) has suggested Meds. "Oh no. Not pills," sez I. (D) looks at me as though I am a fool. Isn't the whole western hemisphere on pharmaceuticals? Why shouldn't I be any different. Off I go after raising my right hand and making a promise to see my primary physician. Yeah, she really made me raise the right hand. I feel blind-sided. I think (D) had an unfair advantage. She knows, the Barbie always tries to do the right thing. And according to (D), my 'symptoms' call for pills.

Hmmmmm....I never even told her, that the most relief I get from my overloaded plate of 'issues,' is an ongoing fantasy of eliminating the Daylight Robbers, AKA the Agents of Mental Angst.

Later I'm blubbering to my doc who has the bedside manner of an eel and in the 19 or so years I've known him has never looked me in the eye. Desperate? Yes, I must be. Dr. Gary looks uncomfortable but a touch concerned and quickly mumbles something about 'hanging in there' and 'not giving up.' Hmmmm, thinks I, He went to medical school for this. He sends me on my way with a script for Prozac. I've joined the nation. Dr. Gary has told me to look on the bright side. I can get happiness in a bottle for the low low price of $4 at the Wal-mart prescription counter.

After checking out the side effects for Prozac online, I twice reach for the bottle of pills on the nightstand and put them back. (M) rubs my head instead and I drift off to sleep. Tomorrow is today and I'll keep the demons and the pills at bay as long as I can.