I drove all the way to the pharmacy with that script, between being numb and being in tears. In the end I never filled it. But besides the melodrama...I told my doctor that I never filled the prescription because it wouldn't help me in the way I thought I might need to be helped. That I didn't want to be overmedicated. I still wanted to be me. Was vaguely disappointed when he didn't press the issue any further... But then I guess if I was desperate, I would have told him so. It's not as though I'm afraid to talk about it.
Despite all the things I have to look forward to ahead of me, baking a wedding cake, Scotland, camping, Fan Expo, some days it's hard to keep my chin up.
Every once in awhile I'll be standing in the middle of a room by myself and my spine will wrack up on itself and my fists will clench and I'll just breath like I've walked right into the wall of a panic attack. Lungs seizing up. No more than 5 or 6 breaths. Then it goes away. I have to shake it off and continue on. Just now and again, like there's some part of me that's on red alert, buried way down below the surface while the rest pretends everything is just fine.
Generally by the time I'm tired enough to go to sleep, I *need* to go to sleep because all I can think about at that point is how long life is, and how every decision I'll ever have to make is frightening. How the ones I've made now could be the wrong ones.
In spite of all this, I'm trying to stay positive and look after myself. Go for walks if I get to low, read to stay occupied, see friends or talk to family that might make me a little more calm. It's incident to incident at this point.
In spite of all this, I'm trying to stay positive and look after myself. Go for walks if I get to low, read to stay occupied, see friends or talk to family that might make me a little more calm. It's incident to incident at this point.
