Antidepressants Take The Wheel

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I considered running over to Ralph's in the morning, but didn't really trust my judgement for grocery shopping, and figured I still had a few days before I really needed it. Which is to say, before I ran out of coffee. I had a text from Colleen from around 1am (nothing funny, just works late) with some childhood pics. I was a cute kid. This was also the first I'd heard from her directly since Xmas, so presumably whatever I said or did while blacked out didn't burn any bridges. I also got a text from Ashley, mostly just noting that it was cold out there. I'd texted her a few days ago to check in, and of course figured she'd respond whenever she got the chance. She was delighted by Lady Miss Friday's space heater and official, legal title.

I only had a brief panic that I wouldn't know what to talk about in therapy. Not to be too dumb here, but as my memory of those...mismatched therapists fades, so too does my anxiety over sessions. She actually addressed that, noting at one point that she never wanted to berate me. I'll absolutely grant that I was a horrible, horrible mess when I was seeing the psych while I was on 33rd, but like...she did still yell at me, which is a big red flag for a fucking therapist. I need to buy more pens, because a bunch of mine are running out of ink, and I need those to take notes during my sessions. We noted a few very important things, including that "rock bottom" is subjective. So my Rock Bottom on G was....everything that happened there. My Rock Bottom for booze might be something smaller, like missing Xmas, forgetting Patrick fucking me, getting too drunk to fuck (thanks, Ave D), or most importantly, being drunk and passed out when someone needed me. I might buy a breathalyzer, just so I can more accurately gauge my level of inebriation. She also suggested I maybe get video of myself when blacked out. Not that I'm ever shy about being on camera, but I'd be interested. Most people I've talked to say I'm still me, just.....more. Yes, I can apparently get even more extreme than I am sober. At some point, I'll probably start my own Redbubble or something, because I wouldn't mind "Depression Take The Wheel" or similar on a shirt. And apparently I'm unique-ish for knowing I'm on The Quest.

Since I was still not allowed back on FB, I rumbled with folks on both Twitter and Disqus. Twitter was actually much nicer, and we pretty much just discussed the changing face of entertainment. I really am a patient teacher...when appropriate. Alex had posted a Tweet in support of James Cordon in The Prom. I didn't hate his performance, but I recognize the landscape is changing. Culturally, we're slowly chipping away at the automatic notion that straight white people should play every part. I like pointing out that straight white men used to play even women's roles. There was also a news story about Cadbury's decision to show a gay couple sharing a creme egg, and some fucking garbage was insisting that children didn't "need" to see it. They turned out to be a TERF, too. Someone had already told them to die, a couple times, so I just beat the living fuck out of them with the holes in their reasoning. I am as patient as I am vicious. When appropriate.

I watched Hilda in the evening, paying closer attention to the intro music and perking up every time that intro chime that sounds like "Boy" played. Lady Miss Friday joined me, and eventually The Girls did, too. I was, of course, very interested to see her reaction. She glanced at them, bored, and then ran away when they got too close. Fauna kept running up to me, and seemed very excited by my Soy Curls. I ate milk bones as a child, I've shared (vegan) dog treats with Pupple as an adult, IDGAF about sharing my soy curls with my mice. I was pretty delighted, tbh.