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I'm falling apart or together, depending whether you're a pessimist or optimist, or a Big Pharma CEO. Yeah, rite of passage time is here; I think I need the meds. The period I tried to hide in my drawer and convince my mom to let me have a hysterectomy at 13 is now the numbers flipped--that'd be 31 for all you other parochial school mathers--and my hormones just about recommending I hide myself in a drawer. It happened to my mom. It happened to my sister. My grandma was just a straight up loon (with successful houseplants). I'm having trouble leaving the house. I'd rather not go into the gory details; they're contagious to the prone mind. I'm sitting on Maslow's doorstep. When you don't have your health what have you? I said I'd do the cognitive-behavioral shit--I've an array of self-help strategies tattooed on my brain--but never, never the drugs. I'm beginning to think that what appears to be selfishness is a hyperactive mind turned inward due to biology. I'm scared and see meds as the only way to freedom. It's kind of like that friend from said Catholic school who couldn't swallow pills ... she became a pharmacist.

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