So…I quit taking my Zoloft. Actually it kind of happened by accident, I just forgot to take it three nights in a row — and I didn’t even remember during the day that I had forgotten to take it the previous night. When I realized I’d missed so many nights I was surprised that I hadn’t had any of the bizarre, withdrawal nightmares I usually do when I miss just one or two nights. Well, I thought, maybe that’s a sign — so I stayed off of them.
I suppose that I didn’t choose the best time of the month for this little experiment, but no matter — I’m back on them now….though my first night back on did provide for an interesting night’s sleep.
I guess I should have known that I was overly grumpy — even for me — but I chalked that up to the fact that Grace has decided to spend her days personally tormenting my existence. She’s out of control, always tweeking out on chapstick, and demanding to visit our friends uninvited. I’ve resorted to using completely improbable threats to control the behavior. This week, she watched the old Willy Wonka and the the Chocolate Factory movie with Gene Wilder — I’ve convinced her that girls who steal turn into blueberries that have to be popped with giant needles and girls who are always saying “I want” will be thrown into the garbage chute. I hope when she grows up she has good mental health coverage, she’s going to need it.
What really tipped me off though was my emotional reactions to movies. I’ve always been a weepy one when it comes to movies — I have to take a Valium even to think about Dumbo. First we watched Call of the Wild 2 — a horrible made-for-tv movie. I cried so hard Grace was looking at me like she was afraid of me. The dog didn’t even die! Nobody died, it was a sickly sweet happy ending. I vetted it. I vet all dog movies, I’m not going to have a repeat of the unfortunate Old Yeller incident that scarred my childhood — “here kid, watch this movie for two hours about this really great dog…..I don’t want to give away the ending, because it’s awesome.” So now, anytime there is a dog movie in the theaters I go look up all the spoilers first — so, no, I haven’t seen Marley & Me and don’t plan to….ever.
But I’m sentimental about dog’s, and we’ve had some depressing dog drama around here lately — so I figured the tears were warranted. What was definitely not warranted was sobbing through the beginning of The Goonies. I cried way before Sloth declared his love for Chunk. It was embarrassing, but probably not as bad as when I burst into tears when Charlie found the golden ticket in his Wonka Bar. I was crying so hard I couldn’t explain to Grace why the crowd was so excited — well, I could, I just kind of sounded like this woman:
So, at this point I know I’ve got a problem and I know that it’s time to get back on the happy pills — I was thinking about toughing it out a little longer until I got the news that Extreme Home Makeover is going to feature a family with a son that has PWS sometime in March. Between that and the Winter Olympics I figure I’ll never make it to April without some pharmaceutical intervention.