Bad Idea

I have had my share of bad ideas over the years. These are a few highlights. If I were to chronicle all of the bad ideas over my 29.10 years we would have a War & Peace on our hands. Which I sure as hell didn’t read.

Age 1: Dog food tastes like crackers!
Age 2: The kitty has a hole in its butt. Let’s stick something up there!
Age 5: Let’s pretend I am a horse and eat real grass! Why aren’t any of the other kids talking to me?
Age 7: My mom won’t cut my hair with bangs. Therefore, I will take a crayola scissor and do it myself.
Age 13-21: Too many bad ideas to remember.
Age 21: Let’s start a blog and discuss every single personal detail about myself, with zero confidentiality, and then one day my new boss will find it!
Age 29: Since my insurance provider screwed me over this morning, instead of slow tapering off my medication, I am going to cut it COLD TURKEY.

I am typically an all or nothing type of lady. Usually it’s nothing. Hence why I haven’t written a blog entry since 2008. I tend to start things and not finish them. Hence the strattera.

I also have a very crappy work-life balance. Typically it’s work – eating (my favorite activity) – sleeping (second favorite activity) – watching bad television. Let’s not forget wine drinking. You won’t find any zen on this webpage. But those of you that know me, know that I have been actively working on that.

Right now, I am as good as I am going to get. Emotionally and physically. Unfortunately I have little control over the genetic portion of my portfolio, which ain’t pretty. When life threw me a deck of genetic cards, lady luck was not on my side.

So here we are today, August 23, 2010. I stopped Strattera today. A normal, rational person would have slowly tapered off of it. When my lovely insurance provider decided to call for prior authorization for a lesser dose (WTF), I decided to go cold turkey! I really enjoy turkey.

Why would anyone in their right mind do this? The goal is to create some offspring here. No clinical trials in pregnancy with Strattera = better stop the drug before baby makin’ time so the baby doesn’t come out with multiple heads, additional limbs, or both. Like I said, the genetics are scary enough.

So here I am, a few hours in. No DTs yet or projectile vomiting. I simply feel like someone has plucked the eyeballs out of my head and wrapped them in cotton. Past experiences where I neglected to medicate myself have resulted in mass food consumption in the latter part of the day, so I must stay strong. My job also requires me to form complete sentences, which could present a problem.

Here we go.