Paxil planet - What, me worry?

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Paxil planet

What, me worry?

BY JANE CATOE

How do you know when you worry too much? Hives? Sweat? Near constant

visions of death riding Matt Lauer's headless body?

You see, I watch these commercials for Paxil, the anti-anxiety drug and

psychiatry's " brave new product, " and wonder. There's the man who says,

" When I'm at work, I'm worried about home. When I'm home, I'm worried about

work. " And there's the woman who says, " I just thought I was a worrier, " but

doesn't go into what she frets over. My favorite is the guy who is evidently

looking at his wife and says, " You're always irritable. "

Don't tell me any of that shit requires medication. If you're irritable all

the time, maybe you're just an asshole. And if you worry constantly, that's

called being a human being. Embrace your neurosis. Isn't that what the '90s

were all about?

As for me, I wake up like a gunshot every morning, electric with worry.

After the paralysis and pain in my chest and left arm subside, I shuffle

over to the coffeemaker and pour a pot of heated caffeine down my throat.

More, more, more, I tell myself. I'm alive!

But these commercials make it seem like if you lose sleep by worrying then

that's a problem too. If you're not losing sleep, then you're obviously not

really worrying. And if you're not sleeping maybe you should take it as a

blessing in disguise and get some work done, you lazy bastards. I slept nary

a wink in January and have a lovely new quilt to show for it. My French is

getting better, too.

I've got plenty of pointless things to worry about. I worry about animals

being treated badly, at their homes and in research facilities and in

slaughterhouses. They scream, you know. I have these fears that pigs and

cows -- bacon be damned -- have an intelligence far beyond what we imagine

and stage Dadaist plays in the stockyards at night. One day they're going to

open those gates, and we're all going to be in big trouble.

Then there are the more normal worries, like the scene I play in my head of

the wheels of my car coming off on the interstate. Or of a car driving into

me head-on and killing me. And that could happen too, because the other

night I mistakenly drove on the wrong side of the road for two blocks. I

found myself yelling at this big white truck, his headlights bearing down on

me, " What the hell's you're problem? You stay on your side, jackass! " Then I

realized I wasn't right of the double yellow and was accidentally playing

chicken with said big white truck.

But those aren't my only worries. My friend Flicka reminds me of the time

she had to check my house for midgets. " Remember when you thought there was

a midget hiding under your kitchen sink? " I wish she'd shut the hell up

about that. And then there's the brain tumor I'm getting from the big radio

tower I've worked near for five years.

So, I'm not saying people don't need Paxil. I know people who need it and

are on it. But when so many people are on something to be " normal " you have

to take a look at what's considered normal. All the kids on meds for ADD? I

think they're the normal kids. Normal kids can't sit still and focus for

eight hours a day. They want to fight and spit and run and color. Sometimes

all at once.

It just seems like it's getting to the point that to be normal you'll have

to be on mind-altering drugs. Maybe it's time we take a step back, put down

the Paxil, Prozac and Zoloft and pick up that new Colgate toothpaste.

Teeth-whitening, mouthwash and cavity protection all in one. See. Your

life's already simpler. Maybe you don't need your receptors massaged after

all.