“I have something that can help you with nausea…”

.... so this was said to me, several years ago. The girl who said it to me is now dead.

I know how that sounds. It sounds morbid or macabre. Well. It sounds that way because it is.

I'll refer to this girl as Dawn. She was doted upon by her spouse and her followers; she was legendary, or so many would say. I, on the other hand, viewed her as just another complex human being, complete with games and baggage. Regardless, however, of her humanistic flaws, I sensed how intimidating Dawn could be and therefore I worked to avoid revealing my weaknesses to her.

It was ridiculous, really, her group of groupies who, literally, would fight for her cause, whatever that may be. Whatever Dawn deemed to be battle worthy would be so. Scary, too. Why scary? *rolls eyes* Scary because it was (and still is) painful to accept that human beings stoop to cruel and petty levels. Petty levels that invoke topics such as, “Girl, you just flirted with my man...” *sigh* One in the vicinity of Dawn and her clan could get their ass beat if a judgment were cast... Does that not sound like medieval monarchy or what?

Anyway... that’s all backdrop info. The followers of Dawn really have nothing to do with this post.

What really matters is the fact I remember drinking one night with Dawn and the gang. Drinking too much, actually, surprise, surprise! We were all having fun around the bonfire but I just HAD to say... “I’ve had so much to drink already. I am afraid I’ll wake up sick or hung-over...” Of which Dawn replied, “Girl! I have something to help you with nausea, so drink up and don’t worry!”

I am not sure why I remember this incident so vividly. Possibly because Dawn’s world of control was so beyond my comprehension. Like, imagine... controlling nausea? I also was reminded that Dawn lived on a plane of health issues that were unimaginable to me, Crohn's Disease. She "ported" many of her gastric contents, enabling her to drink, drink, drink. Sadly, drinking, drinking, and drinking lead to additional coping mechanisms which, in the end, exacerbated established illnesses and ultimately dead-ending for Dawn. She was ill and I witnessed her illness in the hospital one time, as a patient. I can not divulge too much, of course, because that would violate HIPPA. But... she was sick. And doped. She knew me, I could tell, but she couldn’t put it together as to where or how.  Instead, she resigned to admitting that it was snowing furiously outside, she said, “It is really coming down out there...” She was wistful and distant when she said this, it was haunting. Her husband seemed detached, as well. I have no idea what the logistics at that time were in their marriage. It is unlikely that I will ever understand what either of them was dealing with. I just know that approximately two months later (shortly before Christmas), she killed herself. Gunshot, to the head.

She had the balls to pull it off. That was the first thing I thought. I compared myself to her and determined that though killing herself was a bitchy thing to do, it was ballsy. I do not admire her for this act, of course, nor do I think it kind to put her children through (likely) indefinite question. But really? How did she dare? Was she angry, under the influence, defeated? All of that?

Control. She always had control of the people and events in her life and she maintained control of her death, as well. I feel though, that she was losing control and that's why she did it. That, and to make a statement. To make sure that her groupies would forever hold her on a pedestal. I see that as the truth. But wouldn't her groupies lynch me for that statement...

I have no idea what it was like in her head, especially right before the end. But I wonder why. She had older kids... who could gauge the severity of what had happened.

In any case. Dawn lost control. Controlling nausea with a pill was no longer enough for her. I think of her a lot, even though I never trusted her. Life is tragic.





“Shut up. If I can deal, you can deal.” Why so hostile?!?

“Shut up. If I can deal, you can deal,” is the tagline I have chosen for Prozac & Coffee. Awwww… but WHY SO HOSTILE? Please! ?

Ok but why?

For a lot of reasons, number one being, I am worn out and cranky and I am tired of listening to myself (and others) whine about shit.

Number two, and this is really the motivation behind the tagline because seriously, I personally have overcome many obstacles, especially lately and because I know me best means that if I can accomplish, YOU can accomplish.

Naw, I don’t mean that as some cheesy, cliche, motivational blah-blah.

I mean it because lemme tell you a little bit more about myself:

  • I’m a quitter. Oh yes. Growing up especially, I would have these grand dreams of accomplishments, like… running a certain distance, swimming a certain distance, or completing a school project, or sticking to a new hygiene procedure, or not eating so much, not drinking so much pop (aka, soda, Coke… whatever regionally floats your boat), or not being such a snot to my little sister, etc., etc. Then, after I became a mother, at the young age of 19 (because, again, I was a quitter and I certainly wasn’t going to stick to abstinence or birth control!) I couldn’t stick to getting up early, couldn’t stick to keeping my home cleaner, couldn’t stick to standing up appropriately for myself… I could go on and on. But, really, all I am trying to say, is that I am a quitter and it eventually got to a point, especially as my kids grew, that I wouldn’t even hope for change or betterment for myself, because I knew that I would likely start, only to quit again.
  • I’m a pessimist. Oh, this one, big time. I went through a period in my life, connected to being a quitter, of course, where I would ONLY see the negative in any given situation. My cup was always half empty! A perfect example would be hubby telling me he was getting a bonus from work, and I would say, “Pffftt.. so what, it’s gonna go to bills anyway.” And though, I am still a pessimist, I like to claim that my pessimism has evolved into being realism. Meaning, by default, I jump to the pessimistic side of things in my head, but I only speak that which could benefit any given situation. For example, hubby tells me he’s getting a bonus from work, I would then reply, “Well, ok. We have to apply that toward bills.” See the difference there? ??
  • I’m hopeless. This is a big one. I have lived without hope most of my adult life. Hope is dangerous and there is a fine line between hope and insanity. I predict that I became so hopeless at a young age, likely because my hopes somewhere along the way, had been tragically dashed. Therefore, I likely developed the attitude of, “It is better to never hope and to never be disappointed.” (One such incident I’m pretty sure, involved trying to turn into Wonder Woman after three spins).

In any case, I could keep going on and on about why my tag line might seem so hostile, but I won’t. I’ve covered the main contributors well enough. SO. All that being said, up there ? leads me to this:

I have managed to over come my BS. Yeah. I did. I grew up failing miserably, hoping for nothing and planning for the worst. And then… for whatever reason, my forever BFF talked me into joining Weight Watchers and I lost 100 lbs of weight and bad attitude. After I surprised myself by doing that, my forever BFF talked me into going back to school… and guess what? I did THAT and am now, 5 years later, almost finished with nursing school. Not to mention, all three of my children graduated from high school and have moved on to be responsible, contributing adults to this stupid society. Those amazing off spring of mine… I thought for sure I’d fuck them up more than I did. Go me!

My point, for crying out loud, is that I am nobody special. I am not a prodigy, not exceptionally smart (insightful, yes), I am not blessed with killer looks or a killer body, in fact, typical to weight loss stories, I have gained half of my weight back. BUT. I did not re-gain my fat-Ass, woe-is-me attitude! Go me again!

I still default to being a quitter, pessimist, and a hopeless, but also, I am a doer and finisher, I am a realist, and I am reasonable hoper.

But I’m not special. So. If you’re not special either and you’re pissed about it…. Shut up. If I can deal, you can deal.