Take a chill pill

There's a little pill I take each day. It's small and pink and smooth. I bite it in half because a whole one would knock me out. Knock me down. Down and out.

This pill calms me. It breaks down and adds chemicals to my brain that I do not have anymore for some reason. My head decompresses. The pressure exits. It allows me to think again. It allows me to not worry about politics. The war. World hunger. World peace. My life seems in order now. My eyes are focused.

I take care of one thing at a time now. My baby girl needs her diaper changed. I change it. I get hungry. I get something to eat. I need to exercise. I go running.

Life is much easier now. Easier to deal with. Easier to manage. I'm medicated. I'm part of a statistic. Our numbers are growing.

After my father died of a massive heart attack I went into a real funk. I cried all the time. Not just in bed by myself, but at the drop of a hat. I was in the Army back then. I found myself crying while I was sweeping the floor. While on guard duty. This is not something a grown man should experience.

I talked to my family and they told me maybe I should talk to a professional. Turns out some of my family members were experiencing the same issues. My father was our rock and we all went to him with our problems. Now there was no sounding board for us. We all became bottled up emotionally.

I dismissed it at first. I researched it and read about all of the side effects that are possible on the different medications. But then one day I was coming back from P.T. with my squad in the shift van and I started crying for some reason. I didn't know why. I wasn't upset. It was a very odd moment. Others noticed even though I tried to hide it.

My life changed that day. Soldiers are strong. Soldiers kill with no mercy. They don't cry for no reason. They don't cry around others. This isn't something that was acceptable to me or to the U.S. Army.

I went to the doctor and told him my symptoms. I was started on the first of several different types of antidepressants that I have taken over the last few years. The symptoms subsided. I got out of the funk. I was able to focus back on the issues right in front of me instead of on the past. A diaper needs to be changed I change it. When I get hungry I eat.

Medications are definitely not for everyone. You can abuse them. You can use them as crutches. But I do not cry anymore. I take care of my problems. One by one. And I make solutions. One by one. I do not look for wars that do not need to be fought. I do not start problems that are really not there. The world might be a little better if more of us were medicated. One by one.

Say Cheese

Thirty one, sun, and fun, and it has all just begun. with one smile. for a while my face was stuck. in place. with a frown.

The sound could pulse and vibrate through all synapses. pleasure receptors firing on all cylinders. life's moments. snap shots. frozen in photo album library glory.

categorized and chosen, decades passed and I amassed one blank tough guy stare that did not fair well on anniversary candle light memory spells. Easter Sunday 2006 was the first day I smiled from ear to ear, and did not fear.

She held my hand and guided me.

Thank you Jesus.

Vacation station. Sitting at another desk. Clicking another mouse. At another job soon. Life is a series of multiple choice questions. I choose everyday to be better. To improve myself. I do one thing a day to improve. I do not make lists. I do not try to make my goals impossible to achieve. I do not know how you should live, but today I will do one thing positive. And if I can get one good thing in then it's just a plus if you can get in another.

I'm going to pump some iron this morning and skip church. Try to get my heart rate up, and shed some unwanted calories. It's Easter Sunday and I'm a little upset that I don't want to go. A little. My family will be there and I should too. Right? Well to each their own and I have not been feeling Churches. Especially the one I grew up in. My father was an active part of the church. He was a youth minister and recreational director there. He taught the majority of adults there how to play basketball, baseball, and tried to help develop in them a sense of morality. My mother is a deacon and sings in the choir. As did I for many years.

My life has changed. I am an adult. By all sense of the word. With a family of my own and health problems to boot. It's hard to be around all of those people and know they know all of my secrets. That they have asked my mother how I am doing and she has told them everything, most likely. They aren't secrets really, but to me not everyone needs to know everything. So there they are thinking about me, praying for me and my family. Hoping we would return to the church as we are heathens by now. Praying for our souls. If God does exist and the power of prayer is legit then I'm glad I have them in my corner. But I'd rather not play any sort of social game in order to get a leg up in heaven. If it exist?

If I showed up they would all want to know how I am doing? How is the baby? Where are you guys living? If I had the gumption to go today, I would be prepared by having a taped conversation of me telling all the sordid details of my life. Where we live? How old my baby is? What her name is? Where do I work now? Etc. Etc. Then I could play it over and over to all of the folks who ask. I'm not too sure if they really care about me, or if they are just asking so they can tell their friends and carry on the soap opera that is most Churches.

I hope they care. I hope it is not all a lie. I hope that we will die and go to heaven and that Jesus did rise from the dead. But on this Easter Sunday I will carry on that hope as a personal reflection on religion, church, and my Southern Baptist upbringing. And I will do it from the comfort of my garage pumping iron. Thank you Jesus.