Target Off My Back

This month I have felt like there is a target on my back. I have been in two different car accidents; neither was my fault. My neck and back ache. I'm dealing with three different insurance companies, one repair shop, one rental car agency, and one doctor.

The second crasher and her friends verbally assaulted me and laughed at my injuries. I yelled back at her and her posse and then burst into tears. Since this scene took place at night in the cold, I felt extra woe some and extra lonely.

The crappy news is that I was alone and lonely. The good news is that I was alone and am still managing to take care of myself by going to the doctor, handling the insurance information, and keeping track of the documentation. I was beginning to wonder if I even need other people (friends, partners, family). Sometimes I feel like saying, "To hell with you all."

I am in the trough of depression - blah.

Tomorrow I have two activities planned: one with a group of friends and another with a therapeutic drummer and certified aromatherapist. I'll be in a drumming circle with nice smelling oils in the room.

I am hoping that by doing these activities tomorrow, a wave will lift me out of the trough and onto it's crest where I WILL STAY.

When Anti-depressents Work and Why We Need Them in America

Today a friend wanted to know why so many people in our culture take anti-depressants. She also wanted to know what it's like taking anti-depressants. She moved here from India about three years ago.

WARNING: The following paragraph in brown may bum you out: 

I think so many people in our culture take anti-depressants because we value success, gadgets, money, appearances of our front lawns, and not our humanity. People are rude and mean, and there's much hustle and bustle. We kill each other a lot, especially in urban areas. Jobs are scarce. We kill unborn babies. There are many options and choices here in the U.S. that picking out the type of Cheerios becomes a major summit meeting in the mind. Also having to drive in a community with many stoplights, cars, and idiot drivers is enough to make me want to stay in bed - sometimes. It's can be overwhelming.

PINK is Happy.

The first sign I had that my anti-depressants were taking effect for the good was wanting to dance to rock music when I heard it on the radio.  Hearing the B-52's singing Love Shack on the way over to the library got my blood flowing, made me feel youthful and lively, and made me want to dance and celebrate life.

How did you know your anti-depressants were starting to help you?

What factor of American life would you eliminate to create a happier you? Or rather, what factor of American life (if you live in America) caused you to "go over the edge?" I have to think of that answer myself.