The right stuff.
I feel good. Not perfect, but so much better than the place I was in two months ago. It shows around work, too, with a couple people noticing that I seem myself again this week. No panic attacks every morning when facing a daily deadline, more pleasant to be around in general. I think my husband would agree to these conclusions as well.
Now that it seems I’m stable on the lowest therapeutic dose of this particular SSRI, the real work can begin. Even as I was slowly adapting to the medication, my psychiatrist and I worked through some of the basic things that cause me anxiety. (Though, thanks to the availability of her psychotherapy along with medical management, our health insurance doesn’t cover the appointments until I meet my deductible. Which SUCKS, but at least my deductible is low.)
Instead of dropping off a new prescription at the pharmacy and expecting it to be ready after a round of grocery shopping, I am to drop it off and come back a couple of days later. That way, any insurance/pharmacy/physician problems should have been resolved and I should avoid a long wait time like I did back in June. Seems logical, right? It didn’t when I was in the depths of that ugly cycle of anxiety then depression, more anxiety, then more depression.
Next up came the issue of balancing writing with my day job. So many blog posts and story ideas were coming at me as I was undergoing one of the most stressful months of my life. I was feeling resentful of the day job where my job duties were becoming routine and boring, outside of that obnoxious daily deadline that was causing those awful panic attacks. This was time I could be spending writing, if I was just sitting at my desk surfing the ‘net. There were times where I seriously considered just up and leaving in the middle of the day.
Now I am keeping a notepad in my purse everywhere I go, including work. If an idea hits me in the middle of the day, I write it down quickly. If I have a little extra time in the work day, I’ll write a bit more to get the full effect when I sit down at my computer later that evening. Most importantly, I approached my manager to let him know how I was feeling. That part of the equation is still mostly unresolved, but at least he knows, right?
This isn’t a weekly appointment situation with the doctor because after all, she is a psychiatrist and not a full-time psychotherapist. Instead it’s about every 3-4 weeks. It gives me plenty of time to deal with each issue we discuss slowly on my own and come back to report.
I feel like the real Rachel again, someone who isn’t seen often enough. The medication allows a clear head, free of panic attacks, while still allowing me to cry with joy over seeing the first photos of my mother with my brother’s twin daughters.
Yeah, those tough anxiety issues await me. Somehow they don’t seem so out of reach to resolve and that is something I never thought would happen a few months ago.