Why is it that your tongue always seeks out the rough spot? The broken tooth, the painful spot that you hope is not a baby cavity waiting to grow up into a root canal... And why can't we ditch this whole evolutionary advantage of encoding negative memories better than positive ones. I don't need to remember that the cave with the sabre tooth bears is a place I should avoid. I don't, for instance, need to remember that in seventh grade some chick whose name I don't remember made fun of the shirt I was wearing while I was changing after gym class. It was a garage sale find with a gathered waist and a delicate calico print. My mom got it for me as a possibility for a costume in my sixth grade play (I played a maid in "Hassle in the Castle"-- A retelling of Sleeping Beauty), but I liked it so I decided to wear it to school. It was Lee brand. Nobody else was wearing anything like it, which for some reason I didn't think would be a problem. "Nice Shirt." sneer. What is the possible advantage of remembering that with such vivid detail? And this is not some memory that I have dwelled upon and stewed on for years and years and years. I haven't thought of it for a very long time, but when I was trying to come up with negative memories this popped right into my head. Come up with a positive memory from the same era? Earlier? I do have memories, but they don't have such vivid details. I remember where I stood in the locker room. I remember which way I was facing. How my hair was done up. Honestly. ... Still don't have my bupropion. It didn't work with my schedule today. Under ordinary circumstances in the past this would mean that I would stop taking my medication entirely and wallow in ever-increasing ineptitude until someone noticed that I hadn't bathed in a month. Or I started crying when they asked me how things were going, but I couldn't say why. Or I didn't answer any phone calls, emails or texts. Now, mind you, this could take a long time. It could take a year or more for things to get that bad. But they probably would get that bad. One of my psych people told me that in the case of situational Depression people can crash rather quickly when they go off medication. But those of us with chronic Depression go to pieces more gradually. Gently. So we think we're cured. However, this time I am not going to throw the baby and bathwater out with the forgotten lapsed overdosed medication and badly mixed metaphors. Instead I will call the pharmacy tonight even (they have an automated service) and pick up the prescription tomorrow. Get a nice pill minder. Get back on the horse. On the juice. On the take. On the wagon. Grateful Crap: I woke from a nap (snuggling with two-year-old) to find that the older two children had voluntarily stopped playing their video games after 30 minutes and decided to work together to make dinner: fried eggs, lemonade, pickles and sourdough bread. Daily Convexions: took sertraline 150mg; thought about the fact that I wasn't taking my bupropion and felt bad about it did 1 hour on the elliptical trainer. I wanted more solitude than the yoga class would give me today played horn. LOUDLY. Comments are closed.
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K. BuchananQuaker, teacher, parent, |