Not ALL Fluffy Bunnies

And, just in case you go thinkin' I've gotten all fluffy bunny on you...

Another CBL story.

I do NOT know how this woman has made it to 4X years old - a VP no less - without me telling her how and when to breathe in and out.

I had mentioned, in passing, that there is a yoga studio just down the street from our office that has some classes I think she would like. The studio is literally across the street and down a block and half. You can Google it.

She called me today at 5:51. I was well on my way to catch the 6:10 train to Glostah. I did not answer. (Part of my newfound sanity is knowing when to call it a day.)

Transcript of Voicemail:

"Hi. CBL here. I've been trying to find Yoga Studio. I must have gone the wrong way. I've been walking for about 20 minutes. I'm up toward ... where am I? ... I don't know, but I don't see it. Maybe I'll just walk another block and then turn around. If you get this message, give me a call and tell me where I should be going. Okay. Um. Thanks. Bye."

Seriously?

All Hail Pharmacology!

You know the phrase "Lip Service?" Well, I have officially been giving lip to biological-based mental/emotional illness. I have enough family members and friends who have suffered at one point or another or forever from this and I have always agreed that sometimes medicine is a good thing, a useful thing. That sometimes you can't just "get over it" or that these things can and ofter are, biologically based. I said it, but the girl raised by a marine, who was brought up to believe you had to push yourself as far as you could go and then go ten steps further, didn't really believe it. Or, as I often say to the amazing Therapist, "I get it here (points to head) but not here (points to chest).

Now, I get it. I. Get. It.

No, this blog is not about to become all about my battle with depression or bi-polor or whatever the hell I've been diagnosed with. We can all read Dooce thankyouverymuch. But I do have to say, Universe bless the meds.

I went onto my new SSRI on Friday. And although it is supposed to take two to four weeks, I felt the switch flip on Friday night.

"It's a placebo effect, babe," says GoodBuddy.

I don't care if it's the poop in Glosta's pipes. I feel great.

I even had a two hour meeting with CBL and only gritted my teeth once.

That, my dear readers, is what I consider a victory.

Note to readers: for those wondering what an SSRI is - a selective seratonin reuptake inhibitor. Think of it this way. Seratonin is HappySerum for your body. Imagine it like happygas for your car. When you're under stress - constantly - all the gas in your car is getting diverted into a tank that keeps getting heavier and heavier. So now, your car has to keep working harder to go just as far and with less happygas. If this cycle keeps up, eventually, your car just ... stalls. SSRI's re-route the happygas back to your engine, so VroomVroom. So, no, it's not a perfect analogy, but you get the idea....