Severe Anxiety With A Sprinkle Of Depression

I finally saw a therapist.

Yes a real one. Not the one I made up in my head a couple months ago. Although, I’d say that session with myself did rather go pretty well.

Anyways, It was different. Last year I saw a counselor at my local doctors office that my doctor had recommended me. I went for maybe about three weeks but for some random reason I never went back.

This time I didn’t want a counselor. I wanted someone, I’d say, with a little more experience and expertise. And I was able to find one.

I took a test at the beginning, which was random, but it was mostly about how I was feeling, what I was going through, and other random question about my days to day.

Then we went over it and the therapist asked me to go more in-depth on why I felt the way I felt. It’s not easy to talk about things with a total stranger but I really didn’t have anything to lose, so I let my mouth run, and boy did it ever.

In the end, she finally told me what I had. She said I have severe anxiety with a little sprinkle of depression. Well isn’t that cute? Those weren’t words but it sounds less scary that way for me.

She asked me about medication and if I was willing to take any. In my head I’ve always told myself I didn’t need any. I’m fine. I don’t want to be crazy and taking pills all the time. I see on tv all these people going bonkers because they take pills, or hear how people hate taking them.

I told her that I was worried in doing so but if it helped, then I was willing to try. She told me that mental health issues depicted on TV are taken to the extreme and are not that accurate.

I’m starting off with this one med that I don’t really know the name of [it’s at the pharmacy still because I’m still nervous to take it. (Side note: isn’t it ironic that my own anxiety is stopping from taking anxiety medication for my anxiety? I just thought that was funny)].

She told me all the benefits of what she prescribed, and all the side effects. Also, she said that not every medication is meant for everyone so we might have to see what works for me. She gave me her contact info to keep her updated since according to her the first few weeks were critical.

So that along with something called CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy) that I should see improvements, but things don’t happen over night. With due time. But for that to happen I have to start taking the meds.

I hope they help, I hope all this helps.

Make It All Stop

Anxiety. I have a lot of it.

No, it’s not doctor diagnosed, but I know I do. Let me tell you why.

About a month ago I went to the doctor to ask about my increasing head aches. I wasn’t sleeping and wasn’t eating. It was around the time I came out to my best friend. I know that was mainly the problem. Also the working two jobs. Once that passed I was ok.

But even before then I have always known there has been something else. I’ve never really paid attention to it but now it has come to a point where I need it to stop.

I know I have anxiety. I do not know of what kind.

Let me explain.

I hate parties. I hate social interactions. I don’t like talking to knew people. I don’t like being the center of attention. Why? I have no clue, but when this things do happen when I can’t avoid them at all costs, I get hot, sweaty, red in the face like a tomato, I don’t know what to do with my hands, and my heart pumps so hard I can feel it through my fingers.

I over think. I know I’ve said this before and I’ll repeat it again because it’s true. The emphasis can not be placed on it enough.

I think about everything. What do they think of me? Are they whispering about me? Why are they laughing? Should I double check my zipper? Why haven’t they texted back? Do they find me boring? Who are they texting? Why do they avoid me? Why are they like that? Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop?

Every little word of anybody I will over analyze. I will take that thought with me, tuck it in bed, and sleep with it till the sun comes back up and then I’ll carry it around until it weighs me down.

I worry about every little thing, even after it as been assured to me that everything is ok. I’m so into my thoughts sometimes I’m not focused and make clueless mistakes.

I feel like I’m in a box. On the inside I see life pass by and I knock on the glass walls screaming for help, crying out waving my hands back and forth. But when people look over, all they see is an old moldy decaying cardboard box.

I know I need help. Tomorrow I’m going to call a counselor at my clonic to see if he can help me. I’m tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of carrying what people say about me. So how do I make it all stop.