"You're going to end up in the hospital," my father hollered at me last night. "You are just crazy as hell."
I had refused to take the plethora of medications he hands me every night. I am tired of being drugged up. Feeling flat and blah. Sex-less. I've come to the conclusion that I would rather be crazy than to feel such a way any longer.
"I'm cutting off your internet," he then hollered as he stood in my face holding that handful of medications. "What are you going to do then? Sit in this house all day with nothing to do? You don't have any money."
Thanks to my father I don't have any money. It will be the 31st of December before my first ad checks come pouring in.
"Fine. Cut it off," I said. "I will find a way of getting it cut back on."
I was calm, cool, and collected. I didn't argue with him. He finally went storming out of my house slamming the door so loudly that a picture I had hanging above my piano fell off the wall. His last words were... "We're not having anything to do with you un-medicated."
The most striking thing to me about last night was that I weathered this storm without a panic attack. I have felt so much better coming off all those medications. My only symptoms are extreme compulsiveness and a twinge of paranoia. I drank over 24 regular Coca-Colas yesterday proving my Luvox did work when I took it. I am drinking coffee today having run out of Cokes and my family will not buy me anymore. Imagine that. Imagine not even being able to run to the store to buy a simple Coke. I spent the last of my money on a cup of coffee as I talked to my clerk friend this morning. I think I have 75 cents in my car for coffee tomorrow.