And, yeah, the last couple weeks have been rough. Sometimes really rough.
I wrote the following on August 4th, Monday of last week. I figured I may as well finally hit the "publish" button even though, yeah, I did also write another post about anxiety a few days ago. Who knows, I may write more on it soon, depending on whether writing seems to help.
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I went to the doctor this morning because of dizziness. I've also been having more frequent migraines and a few other symptoms that have caused me to get behind on my schoolwork, but dizziness has been the big one for much of the last week. Or rather, it was the only big one that I intended to discuss with the doc, though she managed to find the other big one that's possibly a worse problem. I'm not sure what I said to tip her off, but she also asked if I've been having anxiety.
Am I dealing with anxiety? Yes, definitely, yes. And it's not a new thing, either. I'm certainly not happy with it, but I'm used to it. Resigned to it, I guess you could say. When I was younger I could talk about it quite easily, and one doctor I was seeing for ADHD decided to treat the anxiety I was constantly talking about instead of what I'd originally gone to him for. That turned out to be an excellent idea on his part. So I went on Prozac when I was eighteen, and stayed on it until a couple years ago.
I'm not sure when the anxiety crept up on me again. But it did, and I mostly kept it to myself. That was easy since it typically only strikes at night while I'm alone; if I'm with someone or it's daylight out the anxiety isn't likely to be a problem. I did say something quietly about it at first, and of course my family could see that I got nightlights for my bedroom. I'm sure they also sometimes noticed when I slept with my bedroom light on, which I've done on occasion. But I tried to handle it quietly, by myself, and I didn't even tell my boyfriend until it had me crying on him recently.
For some reason I didn't seriously consider getting treatment for it. Sure, the Prozac helped before, but I didn't particularly want to go back on it again (side effects) and I'm wary of trying new meds (too many experiences involving unfortunate side effects). Having trouble talking about it was also a barrier to getting help.
Although I still don't know why I've had so much trouble talking about it, I finally know just how difficult getting help really is. I'm facing the anxiety head on again by taking a new medication for it, and what's my response? Panic attacks. Not the worst panic attacks I've ever heard about someone having, but they're completely new to me. And scary.
Imagine being afraid that something will happen to you, and your fear causes it to happen.
I don't know if I'll publish or delete this post, but I thought writing it (and attempting a rewrite that will read better than my original attempt) might help. I probably will publish this because silence obviously didn't help, so maybe opening up will. And how much more open can I be than putting this online where the world can see it? Maybe I can even figure out why I thought that I had to deal with things alone this time around.