Why Not Settle?
Themes. They're everywhere I don't want them to be. Maybe it means I'm at the end of a few of them. Or maybe it's my lesson. And I'm supposed to finally get it. I do know that they're upsetting. Which oddly enough, I like. Not that I'm being underestimated. No one likes that. Or confronted by them. But I do know that now I know enough to see that they're wrong and recognize how much they bother me. Yesterday at breakfast one of my best friends asked me not to cry. It wasn't a full blown cry and she wasn't embarrassed. She just didn't want me to be sad. But the way I see it. It's good. I have to get it out somehow. Not getting it out was what made me sick to the tune of $30,000. And pretending made me follow a few paths I didn't want to. And that's probably a good part of the reason I'm still here.
There's this great article in the March issue of Oprah Magazine called "Valley of the Dulls" about what happened to some people's drive when they took antidepressants. They lost their ability to feel. To be upset about their situations. To get excited about things. To create. To change their lives in a good way. And they realized that they were settling for existing. Most of the people had taken the antidepressants during a hard time --to help them get through something without going off the deep end. To survive. And that's what I did. It made me feel artificially happy. Artifically lifted after awhile. I needed to go on them in the beginning. I'm not going to lie. I was a basket case. Tearing up at breakfast was nothing. I was having very dark days. Dark. Let's just say my suggestion would not ever be to go into a psychiatrist's office and tell him why you need antidepressants. It's essentially setting up your failures and your mistakes and any pain from your childhood and bringing it to the forefront of your life. It's not saying, "this is why my life is good" It's saying, "This is why I'm a basketcase. Can you blame me? Now help me forget."
Well, the good thing that did come out of that was a mini-breakdown which included drinking a bottle of wine, calling my father for the first time in 15 years and saying what I wanted to say (not that I remember a damn thing) followed by a trip to New Orleans which my sister showed up on because of my breakdown and a lovely time was had by all. Really. It was one of the first times my sister and I were just honest and real about things. Things that happened when we were growing up and how we felt about them. She was away from her husband and kids and I was away from... well, my life, I guess. And I have a great memory of having seen New Orleans pre-Hurricane Katrina.
So back to the anti-ds, as I call them. I do know they got me through the dark days of my career fall out, bankruptcy, car getting totaled and bus riding. They let me go to baby showers and weddings and birthday parties when all this was happening and be happy for other people. But then, there came a moment in the publicity job when my boss was being horrible. More horrible than usual and I realized that I just saw yet another friend get engaged who I had comforted through a break-up. Another friend land a great job who I had commiserated with over drinks. And more drinks. And who I had helped on the way. And that I was still sitting in that chair. And things weren't getting any better. That's when I stopped taking the antidepressants. And that's when I started to feel. Sure I got dark there for awhile. Really dark. Again. But. It made me change things.
Look, I'm not blaming the antidepressants for where I'm at. Not at all. They didn't walk into my mouth of their own accord. In an odd way, I'm glad I took them. Because now I'm comfortable being honest. And messy. And crying. And being happy. I recognize happiness just as much as darkness. Not so bad. Anyway, I thought about this all because I got another call from my ex-boss last night. I didn't call him back. I'm not going to. I thought about something he said about the art gallery job, 'It's better than what you've been doing." It's the same thing that crazy publicity ex-boss said to me re: working for her after she demeaned me, "It's better than retail." Well who gives a shit? Just because I did them didn't mean I wanted to and it sure as hell doesn't mean that's all I'm good for. I remember when I was in high school and got into UCLA. My mom wanted me to go to a junior college since she couldn't afford to pay for my college and my dad was a non-issue. I couldn't believe she was serious. I got a 4.3 in high school and worked full time. What did she think I worked so hard for? So I told her not to worry. I'd pay for it myself. And I did. And it was hard and it sucked at times because I did do it the hard way. I worked full time. Hello, loans anyone? Yeah, now there's an idea. Hindsight. Right?
So back to settling. Why would anyone want anyone else to settle? Whether it's a job or a relationship or just how they live their lives? I want all my friends to be happy. I want them to marry people they're in love with not sperm providers who they have nothing in common with or wallets who they never see. I want them to be able to do things they love and they're good at. Sure, sometimes we have to suck it up and do things we don't want to. But that should be the exception. Not the rule. I just thank God I know that much is true.
There's this great article in the March issue of Oprah Magazine called "Valley of the Dulls" about what happened to some people's drive when they took antidepressants. They lost their ability to feel. To be upset about their situations. To get excited about things. To create. To change their lives in a good way. And they realized that they were settling for existing. Most of the people had taken the antidepressants during a hard time --to help them get through something without going off the deep end. To survive. And that's what I did. It made me feel artificially happy. Artifically lifted after awhile. I needed to go on them in the beginning. I'm not going to lie. I was a basket case. Tearing up at breakfast was nothing. I was having very dark days. Dark. Let's just say my suggestion would not ever be to go into a psychiatrist's office and tell him why you need antidepressants. It's essentially setting up your failures and your mistakes and any pain from your childhood and bringing it to the forefront of your life. It's not saying, "this is why my life is good" It's saying, "This is why I'm a basketcase. Can you blame me? Now help me forget."
Well, the good thing that did come out of that was a mini-breakdown which included drinking a bottle of wine, calling my father for the first time in 15 years and saying what I wanted to say (not that I remember a damn thing) followed by a trip to New Orleans which my sister showed up on because of my breakdown and a lovely time was had by all. Really. It was one of the first times my sister and I were just honest and real about things. Things that happened when we were growing up and how we felt about them. She was away from her husband and kids and I was away from... well, my life, I guess. And I have a great memory of having seen New Orleans pre-Hurricane Katrina.
So back to the anti-ds, as I call them. I do know they got me through the dark days of my career fall out, bankruptcy, car getting totaled and bus riding. They let me go to baby showers and weddings and birthday parties when all this was happening and be happy for other people. But then, there came a moment in the publicity job when my boss was being horrible. More horrible than usual and I realized that I just saw yet another friend get engaged who I had comforted through a break-up. Another friend land a great job who I had commiserated with over drinks. And more drinks. And who I had helped on the way. And that I was still sitting in that chair. And things weren't getting any better. That's when I stopped taking the antidepressants. And that's when I started to feel. Sure I got dark there for awhile. Really dark. Again. But. It made me change things.
Look, I'm not blaming the antidepressants for where I'm at. Not at all. They didn't walk into my mouth of their own accord. In an odd way, I'm glad I took them. Because now I'm comfortable being honest. And messy. And crying. And being happy. I recognize happiness just as much as darkness. Not so bad. Anyway, I thought about this all because I got another call from my ex-boss last night. I didn't call him back. I'm not going to. I thought about something he said about the art gallery job, 'It's better than what you've been doing." It's the same thing that crazy publicity ex-boss said to me re: working for her after she demeaned me, "It's better than retail." Well who gives a shit? Just because I did them didn't mean I wanted to and it sure as hell doesn't mean that's all I'm good for. I remember when I was in high school and got into UCLA. My mom wanted me to go to a junior college since she couldn't afford to pay for my college and my dad was a non-issue. I couldn't believe she was serious. I got a 4.3 in high school and worked full time. What did she think I worked so hard for? So I told her not to worry. I'd pay for it myself. And I did. And it was hard and it sucked at times because I did do it the hard way. I worked full time. Hello, loans anyone? Yeah, now there's an idea. Hindsight. Right?
So back to settling. Why would anyone want anyone else to settle? Whether it's a job or a relationship or just how they live their lives? I want all my friends to be happy. I want them to marry people they're in love with not sperm providers who they have nothing in common with or wallets who they never see. I want them to be able to do things they love and they're good at. Sure, sometimes we have to suck it up and do things we don't want to. But that should be the exception. Not the rule. I just thank God I know that much is true.
posted by jodypwrites | 6:47 AM
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