I am choosing not to medicate myself with anti-anxiety meds this morning. They have a tendency to make me slow and stupid, like I'm swimming through jello.
A year ago, my doc gave me this prescription to help me through the madness. He warned me that they can be addictive and that I should only take them when I REALLY NEEDED THEM.
Well, on the first anniversary of the two anniversaries over these next two days, I'm still on that original prescription.
There were a couple professionals that tried to get me to take anti-depressants instead but the last thing that I thought I needed was to feel numb, no matter how much I really wanted it.
Walking into the courthouse? Yep. I was medicated. It's a good thing that I was drugged at the attempted name change because it slowed me down a bit when I ran screaming after him at the elevator. Had it not been for the intervention of chemistry, I very well might have leaped onto his jugular and feasted on the refuse of humanity. I am, after all, a Krillitane.
So, I guess the medical community and the criminal justice community can stand down. I'm not addicted to their pills and I didn't act upon the darker impulses in my heart.
Now if I could just kick that black tar heroin habit, I'll be golden.