The Hard Choices

So, as of this past Monday my oldest daughter began taking some anti-depressant medication as prescribed by her primary care physician. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about it, but I know it really is the only option we have at this point. I mean, who wants to say that their daughter is on anti-depressants? It pains me to see her not fully experiencing her teenage years, and making so many poor decisions that could effect her future. Thinking back on my high school years (which were actually quite enjoyable), I know what she is missing out on by not being more socially active. With all that she has been through, I suppose we are getting off easy with only some minor acting out up to this point, but sometimes I see things churning beneath the surface. Things that worry me. Will she be equipped to be on her own when she's done with high school? Will she make it out of high school without ending up pregnant? Will she make it at all? I don't want her to be lost. I see so many other kids that are just...lost. I can only trust that we are doing everything we can to prepare her and that somehow it will come to the forefront when she needs it.

We didn't arrive at the option of medication quickly, but with the exhausted psychological care benefits we have we really didn't have much of a choice. I sat down with her a couple of weeks ago to discuss this option and told her it would be her choice as to whether or not she gave it a try. Luckily, she agreed, and so we are starting off with a low, 10mg prescription for generic Prozac. We went over all of the potential side effectsThe doctor said it would take about three to four weeks to build up in her system and to come back at that time for a checkup. Maybe I'm overly optimistic, but I want to say she's been more upbeat lately. Maybe I'm just fooling myself. I don't know. But I know that I love her, I want her to be happy and I want her to smile more.

Now comes the hard part: explaining this to her mom.

Reverse Darwinism

New York Times

GERONIMO, Tex. — Levi Draher, 16, walked to the front of the Navarro High School gym in early March and picked up the microphone before a hushed audience of fellow teenagers.

Levi was found by his mother last Oct. 28, clinically dead, suspended on a rope he had slung across a bunk-bed frame. He had pushed his neck onto the rope, he told the rapt audience, aiming to achieve a surging rush as his brain was starved and then replenished with blood just before the point of unconsciousness.

“I did it because it felt good and I didn’t think I’d get caught,” said Levi, a slow-talking, sardonic skateboarder and hockey player from San Antonio. “Do I consider myself a miracle?” asked Levi, who told the students he had played the game three times before his accident. “Yes, I do.”

What. The. FUCK?!

No, you backwater, bottom feeding, knuckle dragger. You are not, by any stretch of the imagination a miracle. A miracle is a hand grenade landing at your feet and not exploding. A miracle is a bus hitting you at 40 mph and you survive without a scratch. A miracle is Perez Hilton not being crushed by a meteor.

You are evolution's version of "Punk'd". You intentionally choke yourself to get high, almost die and call yourself a miracle. Oh, did anyone catch the fact that this douchebag has done this three times before? Yeah, three times.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Fuck you Levi Draher. Your parents should be dragged out into the streat so they can watch you be hung to ensure you don't come back this time. Maybe your 18 year old dad will think twice before putting his seed inside the next uterus that stumbles out of a crack house at 4am.

By the way, if anyone is wondering what that dog is thinking:

Dog: I eat my own feces and I have a higher IQ than this fucktard.