Vodka, Gossip, and Halloween Candy

     The boyfriend is still dead, and the girl is still sad, so I'm here all week making good overtime.
     Since I am having a "clear day" this would be a good time to talk about my "situation."  I, like so many people, have been diagnosed with something.  By "so many people" I mean people I know- and whom I mostly do not believe.  Points for my case: 

     DaVinci- possibly has some form of high-functioning Autism (Asperger's).  But he's got social/emotional connections and so very much likes to be touched.  Maybe it's something, but maybe it's not.  Maybe he's just weird- well, he is weird, but maybe it's just his unique characteristic. 
     My sister, bless her, thinks she's ADD.  I know, not diagnosed.  She's a nurse and her husband is a doctor, and doctors seem to believe everything she says.  So, she'll get diagnosed and get meds.  She got her son diagnosed ADD, and it's been a hot mess ever since.  He does not have ADD, nor does she.  I've babysat and attended school with ADD and ADHD children.  I've even babysat and attended school with kids who were diagnosed with and being treated for ADD and ADHD without actually being so.  No one in my family has ADD or ADHD- and no, I have not attended medical school.  But we crazy people can smell our own.  I think my sister wanted to have an excuse for her son's terrible behavior, and she also feels the need to pop a few Adderall or whatever kids are doing these days.  She's a nurse, so I hate to say this, but she's a terrible pill-popper.
     My sister-in-law has a slew of problems.  She has been diagnosed with depression and an overactive thyroid (they think it's some sort of auto-immune disorder, possibly Lupis).  Her I believe.  She got off her meds for a short time because she was afraid it was affecting her sleep apnea (sp?).  Then she had all these stomach problems and panic attacks, and even had some sort of burst in her eye or something.  She's back on them, and dealing.  I think she needs a therapist, but she thinks she needs money for that.
     My mother was diagnosed with depression and anxiety when she split up with my dad.  That was over ten years ago and now she's married to a wonderful man.  There's no need to keep taking Lorazepam or .  Yes, she works a 12-hour day.  Yes, she has to keep tabs on my grandmother who's stupid and dating a man years younger than my mom but too stupid to light a candle.  Yes, she's been through a lot of shit involving:  the death of her brother and his wife, the fuck-up of their kid, the teen pregnancy of my sister, the natural disaster, how terrible of a kid I was, the care and death of her father-in-law, the care and death of her step-dad, etc.  Trust me, my mother's life is a book waiting to happen.  The only days I think she needs meds are the days she has to fire someone or someone dies.  Why?  Why don't I assume she's okay because she's on the meds now and that to take her off would be devastating?  Because she doesn't take them all the time, or even when necessary.  "I have a headache" is followed quickly by a pill.  PMS is accompanied by a pill.  When she had to lay off a good friend last week and cried for a long time- pill?  No, Kahlua.  I don't get it.  I really don't.
     Pink Velour wants anti-depressants because her life is soooooo hard.  Really, she just needs to have a few rounds of really good sex.  The only guy she's ever been with is her husband, MoneyBalls.  He's OCD (in a very real way) and apparently their sex life is terrible.  He has a kid from a previous relationship (he must be very fertile).  He has two kids with Pink Velour.  Get this, won't let her on top.  He says she doesn't know what she's doing and then complains that she just lays there on the bottom.  She really doesn't know what she's doing, and that's sad, too.  But c'mon!  A marriage counselor would be ideal.  He won't go.  Anti-Depressants would not help her situation, because her problems are really just other people's problems being forced on her, and not a chemical imbalance within her.  See the difference?

     Pink Velour reminds me of HouseMarm.  HouseMarm was a friend from college, and I love talking shit about her.  So, this will be fun.  HouseMarm started dating a guy in high school who was a college student.  When 9/11 happened, he joined the ARMY, because he's that guy.  She went off to college in Texas while he was in Korea and then went somewhere else, like Afghanistan.  She transferred back to her hometown (our college town) to be with her family while he had his first tour in Iraq.  Less than a month after his return, they got married.  She planned the entire thing without him, and that was hard.  They *almost* waited for the wedding night, but didn't quite make it.  Shortly after, he started working for her dad's business and had to be let go, because he's a dumbass and can't do even the basic work there.  He re-enlisted in the ARMY to be a drill sergeant or something because they were poor (she was still a student).  She later started working part-time with mom and dad to make some extra cash, but quit when hubby got sent back to Iraq because it was too hard without him.  Mom and Dad bought her a cruise trip with him before he left.  Her mother-in-law gave her a house to live in.  The family was going to sell it, but with all that extra money, why bother with the paperwork?  Yeah, the list goes on.  I know, having a spouse in the military and overseas is very difficult.  I know.  I know.  Okay?  I know.  I understood the anti-depressants to deal with it and try to continue on with her life.  But I had just left the Pretender (which was terrible because we were supposed to get married instead, and yah, I did try to kill myself) and then my dog died.  My dog, who, following the months after the break-up with the Pretender, was very literally ALL I HAD (ie living in my car with her on campus) died when she was hit by a car in front of me at the age of one year and 8 months.  So, my PUPPY died and I was living in my car.  She says to me, "I don't know why you're so upset, it was just a dog.  [Husband] may not even come home."  Husband was a moron, but he was gonna return- because he didn't drive a tank, carry a gun, or work as a medic.  In fact, all that I know of what he did over there was play World of Warcraft online with her at least twice a week.  She also told me, after I had given up on my meds after repeatedly telling my doc I wanted a lesser dose of one, and a different brand of the other, "If you would just take your meds, you would be such a nice person.  People might even want to be around you."  I was living in my car and showering at the school gym.  I had just broken up with the guy I was going to marry because he did drugs, hit me, and cheated on me.  I had just been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, and my dog was dead.  Of course I cared what people thought of me.  Of course I wanted to be around a ton of people.  Her biggest problem, which she later confessed in a drunken ramble?  She thinks she married the wrong man, because she's never been with anyone else.  What do I think her biggest problem is?  She's playing house.  She, in all seriousness, compares her life to those on "Desperate Housewives" and "Army Wives."  She's playing house and is realizing that life is not that way, that life is more difficult.  She's trying to get pregnant now, and I really hope that doesn't happen, that she leaves him, and that she grows up a little.  She has never been on her own; someone always takes care of her, and she judges me for having had one nervous breakdown while she was my friend.
     Okay, so, my point is, some people are crazy and some are not.  Some need meds, and some are just hitting a rough patch.  Sometimes, I don't know.  Sometimes a stiff drink will do.  I have been off my meds for, what?, almost three years now.  And yes, I do wish I was on them.  And yes, I am proud that I'm not dead right now.  You know?