September 2009


I had that really incompetent therapist earlier this year.  It was kind of scary how bad she was.  I did take one piece of advice from her, which was to talk to my personal physician about going on some psychotropic medication.  He suggested going on an SSRI for just the winter, going on to state that he has several patients who are on SSRI’s for six months out of the year.  “Think about it,” he said, “and let me know in the first week of October.”  Well, that starts tomorrow.

 

I thought about it.  I thought about it a lot.

 

I tried to do some research on it, utilizing my insurance’s formulary (since I know how much hassle that can entail)- which seems to be nonexistent.  I couldn’t find it online.  Calling the 1-800 number was unhelpful.  Finally I called my pharmacist.  And you know what?  She was more helpful and knowledgeable than the therapist, and told me more than the doc did- which ones are covered, which ones have a generic, which ones are harder to get off of, which ones seem to be more effective.  A good pharmacist is gold.  I’ve said it many times.

 

I just want to not get SAD- Seasonal Affective Crappy Feeling- this winter.  I have goals.  I have been exercising.  I have been spending quality time with Jack and friends.  I have been petting my cats.  I have been creative, not enough.  I’d like to be creative more often.  I’d also like to have deeper friendships, more meaningful somehow.  I don’t know if Zoloft would aid or stunt that, and that is the bigger philosophical conundrum.

Jack discovered this digital station that shows old TV shows and commercials without regard to  intrinsic quality or timelessness.  He loves The Incredible Hulk, Mary Tyler Moore, and this one weird spy show that is kind of cool in small doses.   The thing is, he is glued to the set for hours every night, whining that I’m on the computer too much (hilariously illogical!), which is only because he won’t do stuff with me.  Like, this spy show, it’s from 1968 or ’69.  Last night the protagonists went to a party that was like those scenes on Laugh-In– the party scenes.  There was a band, the extras were all dancing, and I wanted to dance, right?  Of course!  But I could not get that man off the couch to dance with me, leaving me to dance “at him,” as Gidget would say.  But who was going to see?  Who would know?  Nobody.  The cats only. 

 

The cats are black and white like most of these shows.

 

One other thought: how many episodes of The Incredible Hulk does a person have to watch to realize that…all of the episodes are the same?  Three, I reckon: two to suspect that this is indeed the case, and a third to confirm.  Jack and I did have a spirited philosophical discussion about the nature of The Hulk- is he really just a metaphor for David Banner’s righteous anger?  We concluded that no, he really does transform into a green beast.  I do continue to watch sometimes, hoping that *this* time Mr. Banner’s pants button will also pop- perhaps The Hulk did extra ab work that week in prep for his scenes.  No.  Never- boot leather tears, pants turn to shreds, the shirt is torn asunder- always, the waist stays intact.