Out of Sorts

The semester has begun again, and all I can say is it's very nice
to be away from home again. That being said, everything isn't all
peaches and giggles. Whatever the hell that means.

My friends are all out at different parties, but I didn't really
have it in me. One of my best friends today fell into a
conversation with me about depression, and about how she has
decided to go back onto Prozac. It got me thinking about the ways I
deal with my own depression, and about my objections to putting
anti-depressants in my body.

It's not that I think that they don't work for a lot of people. My
father was on Prozac after his law practice collapsed, and I think
he really helped him deal with his problems. I just could never
imagine altering my brain chemistry on a semi-permanent basis.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy mind-altering chemical compounds as
much as the next person, but I can't imagine having them as a
permanent part of my brain activity.

I wonder if that means that my bouts of sadness aren't really
depression, in that if they were I would not stop to think about
the philosophical issues and just take the chemicals and hope for
the relief the pharmaceutical industry promises.