Lifesavers are giving me cavities.

I am here to tell you how stupid anxiety is.

I have a hard time remembering a time when I wasn't dealing with anxiety. I know when I was little, I felt "sick" a lot, and scared my parents talking about how my stomach hurt all the time. Even though it really didn't. It was hard to explain. It still is. I remember staying up late with my parents, them asking me what was wrong over and over. I remember being really scared a lot. I remember going to see a psychiatrist a few times. His name was Dr. Bob and I'm pretty sure his office was near the zoo. We talked about horses. That's all I really remember. Anyway. I guess someone figured out what was wrong with me between fourth and fifth grades, because that's when I started taking medicine for panic attacks and General Anxiety Disorder. In some ways I think it helped, because I remember the days I forgot to take it were pretty ugly. But in other ways it didn't, because I got really depressed as I went into middle school. I still called home a lot (talking to mom helps calm me down), basically every day. I still sucked on peppermints or Altoids when I got to feeling bad (today it's wintergreen Lifesavers. I don't know why this helps, either). And I stopped taking that medicine sophomore year, I guess. Maybe at this point it was doing more harm than good. Now doctors won't prescribe Paxil to kids and teenagers because it makes them worse in a lot of ways. But I digress. By the time I stopped taking the medicine I was pretty good at handling things on my own (though I still kept Altoids with me and still called mom sometimes). All in all, real, true panic attacks were few and far between. I had some issues with my stomach senior year and started having a few more but it wasn't bad. Feeling sick to my stomach- or anything that reminds me of throwing up, even sometimes a weird tickle at the back of my throat- is my panic trigger. I am that scared of throwing up. If I'm in a stressful situation, my stomach hurts, and that's what brings on the anxiety. But for the past several years, if I've had an issue, I've gotten better in a few days. I might have some trouble going back to the place where I had the panic attack, like work or school or Target, but if I can get through one day in that place I'm usually good.

Usually.

Around three weeks ago I started taking some new medicine for something completely unrelated to anxiety and it seems that this new medicine may be playing tricks on my system. Apparently it can cause heightened anxiety in patients with the disorder. I did not know this going in. So like I said, three or four weekends ago I got this stomachache at work. It was a Saturday. I came home, and the stomachache persisted. That Sunday was a bad day- I had a panic attack or two and the stomach issues continued. For a week I didn't eat much but ice chips and Lifesavers. Even with restricting my diet (I didn't feel like eating anything anyway) I was still having issues. That Thursday I had a tiny bit of applesauce a few hours before going to work. I got myself all worked up in the car on the way over (munching ice chips out of a thermos) and when I got inside I just lost it. I was out at the desk for about a minute and a half before I went over to the staff bathroom and just freaked out for like, twenty five minutes. I called mom. I had her call the desk to tell them that I wasn't feeling well, because I think I was afraid of what they were thinking. I ended up going home as soon as I was able to calm down enough to drive. It was really embarrassing and upsetting, but I started feeling better when I got home (did I mention that this was also the week I had to leave early from Bible study because I freaked out? Because I did.)
I'm doing some better now. Some. I have a few good days, where work goes pretty smoothly (I still take my ice, and also a backup container of ice for when mine melts, and a little wristlet bag thing filled with Lifesavers and Tums and teddy grahams and Bible verses.) When I go to Brandon's I usually have some sort of issue, usually lasting a few minutes, and then I'm ok. But I'm not as "better" as I want to be. Or, in my mind, as better as I should be. I'm usually over all this by now. It's been weeks. When I started writing this post I was having a panic attack. Why, you ask? Because I ate half a sandwich and then my throat felt weird. And then when I tried to take some medicine it was hard to swallow. I calmed down just enough to start crying because I am so sick and tired of this whole thing, and of course that just made things worse. Apparently typing is therapeutic, though, or at least a really good distraction because I'm feeling pretty good now. But I wasn't just a few minutes ago. And I'm still worried. I'm worried about going to work tomorrow, because things are kind of hectic and it's easier for me to get frazzled under those conditions (that happened Monday). I'm worried because yesterday I had some rough patches and today I had some rough patches and that's two days in a row. I'm worried because even though I may be feeling ok, I spend an awful lot of time thinking about how to get out of doing things. Like, I really don't want to go to work tomorrow. Because of what might happen. I don't want to leave the house, really. I ordered stamps online the other day, for goodness sake. It's ridiculous. And I'm worried because I think part of me thinks I might be headed down a road of another five years of not being able to control this part of myself. I don't want to be sick for five years. I don't want to be afraid for five years. I don't want to go on my honeymoon in seven months or whatever and have to go hide in a bathroom somewhere so I can do deep breathing and try desperately to calm down. That wouldn't work too well, anyway, there's so many people at Disney World. I'm just...scared. About everything.

Anyway. All this is to say that I am sick and tired of feeling this way, it's exhausting and time consuming and a real pain. Literally and figuratively. It's stupid and I hate it. I want to be better. I want to know why I'm not better already. At this point I'm so fed up that I'm pretty sure I'd welcome medication again, even though it makes you feel like a soulless robot with no will to live. Maybe that was just Paxil, though. I don't know. If you think of it, I'd appreciate prayer. I need all the help I can get. I need peace. I need to be able to go places without worrying if I'll be able to leave, just in case something happens. In fact, the best thing that could happen is if I just forget the last few weeks. If I can forget I've been having these issues, they'd stop happening. But that's kind of impossible. It's not like that little memory eraser thing from Men in Black really exists.

I'm pretty sure that the people around me, my family, Brandon, and my coworkers, could probably use some prayer, too. For patience and understanding. Those things are really important.

I guess I'd better stop now, since I'm crying again. This is really lame. I might try to go to sleep. Brandon's working until after midnight so I don't really have anyone to talk to. He'll call me when he gets off. I doubt I'll be asleep by then, anyway.