Sometimes I hate being right.
The old me, the crazy one, loved being right and even if I was wrong I sure wasn’t going to admit it and would even try to convince people I was STILL right.
I’m not like that now at all. The real me loves to learn and if someone points out that I’m mistaken or flat out wrong, then I want to be educated. I want to learn. I want to know.
Unfortunately in some instances though, I was right all along.
I notice people now. I observe behaviors. I watch to see what they will say and do.
The lady in the hospital that was supposed to be telling me about my mom’s rehab care who had a glazed over look and kept talking about her own problems.
The woman in the restaurant screaming at the waiter, because her fork was dirty.
The lady who argued with everyone at the meeting and gossiped about the people who didn’t agree with her.
I was right every time.
They were all on antidepressants.
It’s a strange feeling when I recognize it. It’s a validation of what I’ve been saying for years, but also a constant reminder of just how awful I used to be.
Yet another woman on antidepressants was charged with a crime recently. I reached out to her lawyer, because I wish someone had done the same for me.
Something has to change. Lives are being ruined.
You know I will NEVER say that someone shouldn’t take them or that they have horrible side effects for everyone, but I will never stop telling people my experiences and trying to help people who had personality changes like mine.
Sometimes …. I hate being right …. but I know I am.
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