Here is what happened.  I tried to go off anti-depressants and it didn’t work.  I did a long slow taper and in retrospect saw a long slow decline into insanity.  Well, not really insanity, but close.  Now, I am back on “the stuff” and I am just starting to feel really good again.  Here is my new thought: I love drugs. 

Somehow through all the depressed haze I managed to become a certified EMT.  It felt like I was slogging through muck but I did it.  I even did pretty well.  I won’t tell you my final grade in the super difficult UCLA course with people less than half my age because I am not the type to laud my accomplishments and I don’t need the praise.  Let’s just say I received somewhere between 95-97% and leave it at that.

Now what?  I do not know.  Addie starts school tomorrow and Sofie has been back for three weeks already.  Sofie has a car so I don’t drive her to school anymore.  All the other Mother’s of sixteen-year-olds are sad they can’t take them to school any longer and I’m like, “Woo Hoo!!”  Only eight more years until Addie can drive and I can’t wait.  When we were at the DMV getting Sofie’s permit she told me the new driving age was eighteen.  I fell to the floor in a heap screaming, “Why, why?  I have a plan, an out!  Now I have to drive Addie another two years! Why do bad things happen to good people?”  Ten minutes later she told me that was a mistake and Addie can still drive at sixteen.  Oh.  Never mind.

I’m not sure what I will do with my days now. I might work as an EMT, start a class for women, write a play, or watch The Today Show (Matt Lauer!).  I am blissfully aware I have the luxury of choice and I am happy I feel well enough to enjoy it.  Did I just write that I was happy?  Yikes!  Let’s not get carried away.