Why Anti-Depressants Are Worse

SONY DSCAn excerpt from Garden’s Observation; a collection of essays on kitchens in Minneapolis,

By Terry Scott Niebeling

 

Why Anti-Depressants are worse:

 

One of my co-workers gave up drinking.  The story goes she was busted serving a minor in the restaurant, where she was arrested and given a fine of $3,000.00 (which sounds steep, however it’s part of the story, and the story has been changed a million times).  The restaurant was fined as well, she was tentatively released from her duties there, and she had to do community service and eventually became bankrupt.  While doing community service hours she fell and broke her foot; a bad fucking break.  She suffered a very “strange” and “rare” injury, which required her whole foot to be sliced open-from heel to toe, and done-up, or rather “fixed”.  She sued the state and was awarded a large sum of money, bringing her out of bankruptcy, which actually gave her something to live on.  After getting the money she became a raging alcoholic.  She spoke of various “fucking” stories, rough nights and such, and so on, and eventually she ended up in rehab (Hazleton).  I would ask her, before knowing, if she wanted a drink.  She would always say, “No, I don’t want to go back to Hazleton.”  I never knew what this meant, but now I do.  So after the arrest, the fine, the bankruptcy, the community service, the injury, the surgery, and the rehab, she decides to get on anti-depressants and come back to work.  I have no idea where this thought process makes any sense, other than, I think the anti-depressants are worse than the alcohol, because most drunks I know can do their job.  This co-worker, whom I think is an amazing person (really), asks me everyday to do pretty much every job she has been asked to do.  She repeats herself and forgets everything because of her meds, or the med change, or just too much meds in general, but at least she is not drinking and she is out of Hazleton. 

And now she is on anti-depressants.  Which is worse.  She forgets everything and repeats the most banal statements, turning them, frequently, into questions.  “I think I’ll ask Marissa when she gets here….” This happens over and over and over again, most mornings and into the afternoon before something inevitably breaks her concentration in working and then she has to go home.  She literally has to leave at that exact moment.  Even if it’s 2 hours before her shift is over, she will get the idea and start repeating it over and over again.  Will you do this for me?  Can I go?  Will you do this for me?  Can I go?  At this point in my day I wish that I were still on anti-depressants.  Goddamn, those big pharma companies know how to market their product.  I want to walk outside into the street with both eyes closed.  I haven’t yet, and I imagine if I did the street would be empty.  That’s my kind of luck.

 

Disclaimer:

*This person is a made up, this story is truly a story, and so on.

*However, these (the above) are all real side effects of prescription drugs.  If you notice anyone with similar behavior you should contemplate an intervention.

*Prescription drugs are drugs too.  I had a problem and I got help.  You can get help too.

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About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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