I’m a very lucky girl. I get one of Mother Nature’s gag gifts: the psycho/neurological disorder. My flavor: Bipolar Disorder Type 2. What that means, in short, is that I need to take a cocktail of medication just to function in a way that passes for normal. This is curious as each drug happens to have a complicated personality all its own.
- The Big Orange Pill: Me and Orange go way back. He stood by me when every other antidepressant left me alone or landed me in the hospital with an allergic reaction. He’s a romantic that will turn the lowest lethargic into a raging insomniac. But he’s got a dark side, and is not to be neglected. Missing one day means migraines, the sensations of shocks running from your scalp to your toes, and a craving for French fries that would scare the 7th month of pregnancy.
- The Little White Pill: Meet the hipster of the group. He’s so fresh you probably haven’t heard of him yet. So potent, he has to be split in half. He’s tinier than the others, but he costs five times as much. In just the right amount, he’ll show you passion and reaffirm the deeper meaning of life. You’ll also get really irritable. Too much, and you’ll be wallowing in anguish because no one understands you.
- The Medium Pink Pill: This is the guru, the master of the group. He may be the newest to the regimen, but he’s been in the service the longest and knows how to make things run smooth. He cranks the engine. But it is a crank engine. He needs to be there to crank it twice a day. Miss a crank in the evening, and next morning you will…be…stuck…in…tar.
I don’t exactly get it, but somehow the result of these three guys working as a team equates to…normal. Do three crazies make a sane? I guess so.