Anxiety, my old friend ...

Last week I was reunited with an old friend.

Perhaps "friend" is too kind of a term ... maybe "close acquaintance" better sums up our relationship. An acquaintance that I dread returning and despise spending time with. This is a more accurate description of my relationship with anxiety.

For the past two weeks I have been working through a temp agency at a local company that makes mops and brooms. I have been doing data entry, setting up production schedules for the next year based on older production patterns, projected sales and current works orders. It is terribly dull, but I am grateful for the work and strive to do a good job. Also, even though it's only been 2 weeks, I think I've already got enough ammo for a book chronicling my "Life as a Temp". Stay tuned:)

I don't find the job itself stressful, but recently while sitting at my desk, plugging away at various excel spreadsheets, I found some of the old symptoms returning. My chest is tight, my breathing grows shallow, and my mind begins to race. I have never had a heart attack, have no idea what one feels like, but it's the only way I can describe how I'm feeling. I have to force myself to take deep breaths, to remember to breathe at all. I begin to feel paranoid and I have to force myself to walk into the lunch room and eat with everyone. The lunch room is just a few steps away but it feels like miles. 

Despite the fact that I feel like I may be going crazy, the office hums along, phone calls come in, people converse, life carries on. I continue to work along as well. The anxiety really doesn't hinder my ability to work, make calls, send emails. I just seem to stay in a mild panic all day. It doesn't become so intense that I need to leave, I just feel terribly uncomfortable. To cheer myself up, or take my mind off of what is going on, I think of John and little Vince and the evening at home. However, after feeling panicked and crazy all day long, by the time I get home, I feel angry, frustrated and exhausted. This in turn leads to guilt and shame that I can't be more happy or easier to be around.

The difference between Washington and Winnipeg with regards to the "office panic episode" is that I know that I'm going to be okay, I'm not really crazy, and even if I can't pinpoint exactly what is causing the panic, there are reasons. The unpaid credit cards, the bills that are coming in, the fact that I'm no longer designing, the cold, the fear. Also, I have been taught by my previous therapist to give myself a break and to try to take care of myself a little bit better. I'm literally 5% there ... I've never been very good at giving myself a break or any credit, but at least the thought crosses my mind now.

Thanks to Vince (my editor) who has sat here very patiently with me while I write this.

Doctor, Doctor?

Recently I made a trip to see a doctor here in Winnipeg.

I found this doctor by phoning the Winnipeg line which connects you with doctors in your area who are accepting new patients. I went to see this doctor so that I could ask some questions regarding upping the dosage of the anti-depressant that I am currently on. I avoided doing something about my worsening depressive state since I've been in Winnipeg because I felt ashamed and I still hate the idea of anti-depressants (even though I acknowledge that they have made a positive difference in my life over the past few months). Nevertheless, I still struggle with shame and fear regarding this illness and I wanted to see what my options were going forward.

When I arrived at the doctor's office, I was ushered into a back room. The doctor then proceeded to interact only with his computer as he typed in my information. There was no eye-contact, friendly greeting or small talk. As he was typing he asked me what I was there for (still never looking at me). I began to explain that I felt that the depression was getting worse. As I was trying to explain this feeling and give a sense about my past history, I began to get choked up. It is difficult for me to explain how I feel, let alone to a person I've never met. At this point, the doctor asked me what dosage I would like? I was very surprised as no doctor has ever let me make this decision on my own. When I explained that I was nervous about possible side-effects with increasing the dosage - he finally looked at me and asked if I wanted to be "depressed or to have side effects?" Upset, and kind of shocked, I think that I mumbled that I didn't want to be depressed ... I left the office with a new prescription, but felt embarrassed, low and confused. I also had no knowledge of side-effects, alternatives, or possible interactions with any other medicine that I am taking.

My experience with this doctor was one of the worst that I have ever had with any doctor of any discipline. I've been fortunate to have had many positive interactions and relationships with nurses, doctors, cardiologists and my previous therapist. So many moments of kindness, understanding, problem-solving, and really "going the extra mile" on my behalf. I consider myself very lucky. However, this most recent experience made me realize how much one experience can change things. Had this been my first trip to a doctor to begin a discussion about mental illness, I would have been horrified and left with nothing. It took me a long time to accept the possibility of trying an anti-depressant. The fact that he was asking me to chose a dosage and began to write up prescriptions for anxiety and sleep medications (without me asking for them) was a huge turn-off. 

The point that I would like to stress here is not to give up on seeking treatment for depression and anxiety because of one bad experience. There are many wonderful trained professionals out there who can make a difference.  Don't let one bad experience (or one jerk) prevent you from getting the help you need.