Jagged Little Pills

We joke at my house that 4 out of 5 of us are either currently in therapy, have had therapy, or need therapy. Much like baptism, I want to cover all my basis, leave no stone unturned so to speak.

For the record, I`ve been sprinkled and dunked twice by three different pastors in three different faiths. Surely one of them was the right one.

Mornings run smoothly as long as I get up when the alarms go off, yes multiple alarms, and when the dog rouses me by licking my face. If I am showered or at least dressed and in the kitchen by the time Peanut is getting his breakfast then all is well in the Wilson household. However, even with our limited morning rituals, I am not good about taking my armory of vitamins, supplements and necessary medications consistently.

This week I ignored my alarms and snuggled with the dog just a bit too long on Tuesday. When the alarm for the kids went off I still didn’t bolt out of bed. It is a hazard of being a night owl. I can’t shut my brain off at night and find myself still awake at 1 am or more which makes getting up at 6:30 am nearly impossible. It has much to do with the fact that I struggle with low cortisol levels and exhausted adrenals (but we can chat about that another time).

I ran down to the kitchen wrapped in my bathrobe and slippers in hand.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” I shouted grabbing lunch bags and juice boxes in my wake. The Hare reluctantly put on her backpack and slinked out to the garage while Peanut laced up his shoes. Thankfully Peanut is good about getting his own breakfast and since I premake most of his lunch the night before he can pack it as well. The Hare, on the other hand is another story. She had a Costco chocolate chip muffin in her hand, crumbs already pooling around her feet.

We all hopped in the car on our way to pick up one more, but as I pulled out of the driveway I remembered that medications had not been taken and turned the car around. Pulling back into the garage, I asked The Hare to run in the house and get what was needed.

She opened the door with a loud sigh.

As she climbed back into the passenger seat, tossing my pill bottle at me, Peanut piped up from the back seat.

“Why do you take those pills again?” he asked curiously.

“To make me less bitchy,” I mumbled under my breath, backing out of the driveway a second time.

“Oh,” he said with a pause, “did you forget to take them yesterday?”

My quick-witted son

9 thoughts on “Jagged Little Pills

  1. I totally sympathise — I’m a night owl too. If I didn’t take my meds last thing at night, I wouldn’t take them at all. I used to have a morning one and I always forgot it. (Also I definitely need to stop going to bed at 3am.)

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