Friday, November 2, 2012

Oh Good Grief

I love Charlie Brown. I've always loved Charlie Brown, from when I was fairly young and got my first collection - I believe it was called Kiss Her, You Blockhead. It's the kind of cartoon where you only get the funny when you're young, and as you mature you start to appreciate the bittersweetness of the humour. I often think of something that I heard the aboriginal playwright Drew Hayden Taylor say in a talk at McMaster University: "The truest humour comes from pain." Because Charlie Brown does not have it easy. Charlie Brown is wishy-washy, and lonely, and anxious, and lacks self-confidence, and gets pushed around by his dog and tormented by that bitch Violet. And then there's Lucy. Good lord, Lucy demands a post all to herself.

But despite the fact that I also lack confidence, and have a wishy-washy streak a mile wide, and if I ever got a dog I would probably let it wake me up in the middle of the night for treats or bizarre philosophical discussions, right now all I can think of is, when it comes to me and prescription drugs, I am a perpetual reenactment of Charlie Brown and Lucy with the football.


Some nice, well-meaning, trying-to-be-helpful doctor says "oh, I have the perfect drug for you. It will help with your depression. And your anxiety. And your sleep issues. And it cooks dinner when you don't feel like it". And I think "careful, now, don't get all excited. You know you're the poster child for uncommon side effects. You know that, even though it says the worst that should happen is a dry mouth and some mild irritability, it's entirely likely that you'll take one dose and wake up with purple elbows and an inability to stop singing the French national anthem." And yet, and yet.... I dare to hope. I think, maybe this one will work. Maybe this one will be the silver bullet. Maybe this is the one where they tweaked it just to the point where this drug and my convoluted brain chemistry will dance like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.


Or not.

Hope springs eternal. I really just need to learn to stamp on that stupid hope like a cockroach. Because at this point, it's starting to seem like this is just my own damned fault.

Anybody seen the little red-haired girl?

9 comments:

Amber Strocel said...

I've always identified with Lucy. I'm sure this says something deeply significant about my psyche. Or maybe it just means I'm a know-it-all.

Nan | Wrath Of Mom said...

I'm a Peppermint Patty.

Purple elbows sound horrible. Though less terrifying than that medicine which makes your eyelashes grow in super long and thick but turns your eyes brown.

StephLove said...

I don't know who I am but I'm raising Linus (and maybe Sally).

Do you know the part of the Halloween special where Lucy goes and gets Linus out of the pumpkin patch at 4 a.m. because deep down she really loves him (and their parents are apparently unconcerned about his whereabouts)? Maybe some day the drugs will show you that side. Or maybe this metaphor is all wrong because you don't feel like Linus anyway.

I'm sorry things are tough right now.

Nicole said...

I'm sorry that this has been so hard for you.

I love Charlie Brown too. I identify with Snoopy.

Hannah said...

I'm afraid I'm Lucy, except for the football thing. I know during the Christmas special, I find myself nodding an awful lot at most things she says.

I'm sorry this is so tough on you.

Mom of the Perpetually Grounded said...

You don't have to stomp on it just kick it around a little. It's certainly not your fault.
A few weeks ago I melted down into complete mess because I ignored the warning signs and pretended it wasn't happening. Then I took the meds for a month, felt like a mental happy cloud floating through my day. It was so much better-until I realized i was mental happy cloud floating through my day who might overlook red lights and would start to fall over if I stood still for more than 5 seconds. Back to the drawing board and going to the happiest place on earth tomorrow but desperately trying to get excited about it. I'm sorry things suck. Maybe we should die OUR hair red-it worked when I was 16. Ha! Then maybe Fred would show up and we could be- Ginger...See I really should be on drugs, cause in me the stupidest humour comes from pain ; )

Marilyn (A Lot of Loves) said...

I always kind of thought of myself as Schroeder - he just wants to play his music and live to his own beat, man.

Bummer about the drugs. I am also one of the "lucky" ones who get all the bad side effects that only happen to 1% of the people who take it. And I also get my hopes up every time I'm offered a new drug. "No, no, this one is ENTIRELY different than the last one! This'll work for sure!". Annnnnd nope. Blows.

clara said...

Ooooooh. Fucking awful.

Peanuts actually depresses me a fair bit. Maybe you should read Calvin & Hobbes instead. I just KNOW that will work for you. [annoying winky face]

Kim said...

I am a Lucy myself. I am too much sometimes. At my worst, I freebase schadenfreude.

I'm writing this and it's four days later, and I'm hoping that something has changed between when you wrote this and now. And if not, then I can say that I have been on this merry-go-round myself and I know that it is one of the suckiest rides ever. It does stop eventually, but it's really hard to scrape up the energy required to be the kind of hardass who can just power through it.