She Has Trouble Acting Normal When She’s Nervous

The last few weeks have left me raw. A bundle of nerve endings too close to the surface, chafed by every tiny demand thrown by life. It would short circuit and leave me feeling stuck in the murky darkness, where feelings are different. Less than and greater than at the same time — a heavy fog shrouding the world in a deep sense of dread and confusion. I was aware that there were alternatives to the be found — that happiness did exist as a gossamer, intangible idea somewhere beyond the grey. A theoretical thing. If I reached for it, my hand came back empty.

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“Hey doc, how’s about a refill”

Today was appointment day (a lot of days are appointment days). 

First, I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. While my therapist and pretty much everyone else have agreed that I’m handling things very well considering the circumstances, I’m still overwhelmed and having some days of major anxiety. The last few months have been long and hard and more than a bit terrifying. I’m already on Zoloft for seasonal affective disorder/anxiety (which should come as a surprise to exactly no one, though I’m sure my mom’s dialing finger is itching right now), so we agreed it would hurt nothing to bump it up a bit. Obviously a lot is situational, but there is no need  to suffer just for the sake of suffering. 

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