TRAVEL THERAPY #1:
Is Prozac the Answer???
In my very first Travel Therapy session, I expose my perturbed state of mind just before I began to wander with any sense of regularity and purpose and ponder the question “Is Prozac the answer???”. We all have to start somewhere, right?
“I have come to believe that caring for myself is not self indulgent.
Caring for myself is an act of survival.” | AUDRÉ LORDE
What the hell is wrong with me??? I have everything I thought I ever wanted.
I have created the life I had dreamed of since pre-teenhood…the one sanctioned by my conservative Catholic-ish family. A dream that included 1) Financially Successful Dad, (1) Full-Time At-Home Mom, (2) Kids Safely Sheltered in Private Schools, and (1) Fluffy White Dog.
So, why the incessant restlessness nagging me as I sip my morning tea and scan the newspaper, taunting me on my domestic errands, nudging me while I cook breakfast, lunch and dinner, and bugging me when I collapse into bed each night?
It’s like a torturous itch that I cannot scratch…and, it’s turning me into a bitch. A guilty, heavyhearted and thoroughly confused bitch.
Maybe I just need to take stock. Write down all my blessings and stare at them until gratitude relieves me.
What I’m Grateful For
- A good guy who doubles as a husband and best friend. I was so fortunate that the first man I dated after college graduation seemed kind, trustworthy, and goal-oriented. (Should I be worried that he was the only man I ever dated…that we share few interests…that he’s more friend than lover? )
- One clever (often challenging) boy and one sweet (sometimes sassy) little girl. Even my kids arrived as I’d hoped…big bro first, little sis second, both healthy and bright. (So, why can’t I be like the other at-home moms who seem completely and totally fulfilled solely by momming them? )
- Financial security. Our successful company and the booming economy means no money worries here. (I just wish all the stuff that our money bought mattered more to me. )
- A dream house in the “burbs.” Designed by us to include it all…a garage big enough to fit our huge SUV and extra stuff, front and back yards, a new salt water pool with waterfall, and the BBQ of most men’s dreams. (Why do I feel like the house owns us? And, suburban life is kinda starting to not do it for me.)
- A pack of girlfriends. There were six of us who had been hanging out since our kids were toddlers and we somehow managed to get together monthly. (I can’t deny it any more…I feel SO different from them. I find myself craving more meaningful conversations and so much more than bunco and cookie exchanges.)
There it is. Gratitude for the all the good…that is tainted by so much confusion.
Maybe my karma from some less-than-ideal past life is to be unsettled and unhappy. Maybe I am just a bitch. Maybe I should just make an appointment with my doctor and get a bottle of “happy pills.” Could Prozac be the answer to my nagging itch???
Fast forward two months and 60 Prozac into the future…
What the hell is wrong with me???
This time Google enlightens me. I have a horrifying inventory of side effects:
- Dry mouth
- Loss of appetite
- A constant state of near sleep
- Decreased or lack of interest in sex
- Inability to achieve orgasm
Usually reversible…possibly permanent??? Oh…my…God. What have I done to myself? There has got to be some other way…
In my next Travel Therapy session, I say goodbye to yesterday after a wonderful wander to the tiny country of Cyprus.
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