Everybody's jumping off a bridge today, why don't you try it?

Ahh, the satisfaction of being well-medicated.

Hi, I'm Marci, and I'm depressed.

You know, it doesn't really feel good to say that. I'm really open about it, mainly because I want people to realize that there's no shame in it. Yes, I need medication to function. Yes, I'm an upper-middle-class white girl from a nice neighborhood who grew up with many privileges. And yes, I realize that people out there have lives that are one hell of a lot worse than mine. But dammit, life is shit sometimes, no matter where you come from. And you get hit with big squishy raccoons sometimes, no matter what kind of car you're driving.

Maybe I just hang out with the wrong people, but it seems like depression is awfully prevalent these days. Probably some side effect of our society or something - I don't know. Isn't that what you're supposed to do, blame society if you don't want to take responsibility for something? Oh wait - sorry, I meant that if you don't take responsibility for something you beg the government to bail you out.

Oops, sorry - my Republican is showing. Quick, say something liberal! Umm...man, I had fun at that gay pride parade last weekend. Kissed a few girls while I was there too.

So...anyway, depression. Mine started off young - big mean assholes calling me names, not knowing how to fight back, feeling like I was worthless because not everyone liked me, yada yada. Add in a body type that was more Rosie than Milla and my head got all kinds of screwed. Oh yeah, and add in well-meaning parents whose choices ended up making the situation worse, not better. (Hmm...I wonder in which ways I'll screw my own kids up? This is gonna be fun.)

So, long story short, wah wah, life sucks, let's try drugs!

Holy Steve, are drugs a wonderful thing. For the first time in my 30+ years I am HAPPY. And it's only taken me 30+ years.

I'm a bitch. Really and truly, I am. Many people have seen glimpses of this, but most of them think that I'm pretty much only the perky, happy-go-lucky, friendly Marci that I show to people at work. They didn't get to see me at my worst, when I was not only mean to and angry with myself, but also everyone else in my life. My husband is not only the most patient man in the universe, but he is also my hero, and the fact that he puts up with me is a gift that I thank him for profusely. With a lot of sexual favors.

Depression made me a bitch. It made me angry. It made me take every single slight I ever received from anyone and magnify it until I was angry with not only everyone, but also myself. And I took out that anger on my family.

Since the drugs? Well, let's just say that when those big squishy raccoons hit me in the face on occasion, I don't get knocked to the ground and smeared in ichor and intestine. Now, generally I just pull a baby wipe out of my new Miche bag and wipe off the smear on my cheek.

So yeah, depression is rather prevalent these days. But if that means that some government fund is going to make sure that new and better drugs come out to make people like me treat other people better? I'll stand up and say it very loudly. I'm depressed.

Hi, I'm Marci. I used to be depressed. Drugs made me happy.