Recently it’s become cool to brag about how little sleep you got, how hard you work, how many pills you take, how often you’ve been sick. It seems the easier our lives are made by modern technology, the more people need to make up struggles for themselves. As recently as eighty years ago, and still today in many Third World countries, people really were sick pretty much all the time, and now that we finally have the means to be healthy, people seem to want to brag about being sick. I blame people who regram that stupid quote “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Whoever said that is either very stupid or had awesome painkillers. Also, it seems the only people who throw that quote around have not had anything come close to killing them, besides maybe me. This glorification of pain perpetuates the idea that our bodies are a machine we need to test, as opposed to a super fragile bag of skin full of important-as-shit organs.
From now on, I’m not going to minimize my pain. I will be loud about my discomfort. People might think I’m dramatic or annoying, but that’s okay, because you know what else is annoying? Feeling like someone is stabbing you in the brain all day. I will ignore the voices in my head telling me to “toughen up” and “calm down.” I’ll ask for help. And if the help sucks, I’ll ask someone else. I will not settle for help that is dismissive and unfocused. If someone casually throws pills at me instead of a long-term solution, then I’ll get down to business with a negative Yelp review.
Messing with neurochemistry is not a joke, people. This whole trend of giving anyone who walks into a doctor’s office antidepressants when that person isn’t clinically depressed is as crazy as getting tattoo lip liner. I’m not saying antidepressants don’t save millions of lives. I know many people who got their sanity, joy, and humanity back with the help of antidepressants; they’re a miracle for people who suffer from depression, but to take them if you’re not clinically depressed can distance you from the actual solution to your issue. For people who aren’t depressed, these pills can exacerbate the problem and pile on self-defeating side effects, which is what happened to me. Taking drugs when it’s not medically necessary is like putting diesel fuel in a gas car, which I have also done. I don’t recommend doing either.
Dismissing people, especially women, who have complicated ailments with pills is an age-old tradition and one that I think we should all challenge. As I watch one of my dear family members battle antibiotic resistance and many people I love grapple with various pill dependencies, I worry about what mindlessly taking pills does to our, well, mind.
My pain management aside, I’ve hit my limit in losing valuable people’s productivity and time to the side effects of unnecessary antidepressants, painkillers, and various avoidable sicknesses. I’ve seen friends lose their sparkle, their passion, motivation, and even sanity. How can we live our dreams if we can’t even dream because we’re in chemically induced stupors? Maybe freedom is as easy as not bottling it up and not relying on bottles.
I love technology and science as much as the next person, but it shouldn’t replace common sense and our body’s natural system of checks and balances. Before we had MRI machines and X-rays, we had a brilliantly designed nervous system telling us what worked and what didn’t quicker than the fastest Starbucks Wi-Fi.
Let’s make it sexy to say “ouch.” Let’s make it cool to say “uncle.” Let’s make it cool to say “I need help.” Don’t calm down. Don’t relax. Gals, there’s no honor in being a “good girl” anymore. And guys, don’t “man up” or “suck it up.” In general, stay away from anything up, including uppers, because, well, what goes up must come down.
Don’t say you’re okay when you’re not; don’t say you’re fine. I mean, I’m fine, but you don’t have to be.
THE PIT BULL CHAPTER
It’s always annoyed me that dogs are a “man’s best friend,” but diamonds are a “girl’s best friend.” This seems incredibly unfair. Men get awesome super cute pups and we get tiny sharp stones that just make people think we’re superficial and that we have to give back in a breakup? Diamonds have been a way better friend to men than they’ve been to women; they’re a great way to get laid and make an argument go away. To women, they’ve often been a substitute for actual love or a thing we have to worry might fall into a drain while we’re washing our hands. Honestly, if a man was to propose to me, I’d way rather he be holding a dog than a diamond ring that I’m just gonna misplace or end up putting on eBay.
I’d pick dogs over diamonds as my best friend any day. Growing up, I lived on a farm for a couple of years with eight and a half dogs and six horses, and they became my family. I don’t need to sell anyone on how awesome dogs are, but I do feel the need to defend the breed I tend to spend the most time with: pit bulls. At the time I’m writing this I have three pit bulls, but by the time this comes out, I’m sure you will have already seen me on the show Hoarders with way more.
I never cease to be heartbroken by some people’s visceral reaction to pit bulls. One time my FedEx guy came to my door, and when he saw one of my dogs through the window, he dropped my package and ran to his truck, yelling “No pit bull!” He has a body like a brioche, so it was actually kind of funny to watch him run, but when I really processed it, I couldn’t believe someone could have such an intrinsically terrified reaction to an animal that’s well-trained, behind glass and a gate, and sleeps in bed with a girl who uses three-pound weights in Spin class.
Did he really think my dog was going to maul him to death? I mean, this guy had actual terror in his eyes of a dog who gets, like, 10K likes on Instagram based on his sweet face alone.
Look, I’m not saying be an ignorant moron. Having a respectful fear of animals with sharp teeth is always wise. I’m circumspect around every new dog I come across. If you ever see me meet a dog for the first time, especially when I’m walking into its home, I never touch its head right away or invade its space. I hold my ground and let it decide if it wants to hang out with me. It usually does, thank God, and if it doesn’t, you’ll have to witness me having a pretty intense emotional meltdown, but smothering dogs you don’t know is never a good idea. In addition to disregulating the dog, it also makes people think you’re very lonely. I think in general we all tend to approach dogs as if they’re toys; we’re too aggressive and feel too entitled to their bodies. If someone I didn’t know came up to me on the street and started palming my face, I’d immediately punch them in the neck and karate-chop them until they died of confusion. I try to give dogs that same respect, because for all I know, they may have an injury they need to protect or have an obtuse owner who, while trying to be “nice” to the dog, didn’t train it to have discipline around strangers.