I need help accessing my non-crazy side
If I were to change careers I would become a psychiatrist in NYC because DAAAAAMN there ain't enough of them. I have been trying for a week to see one, even for five minutes, to get me some SSRI lovin and to take my anxiety down from Nuclear to Almost Manageable. I won't bore you with details of what my anxiety feels like but I think the marathon runners and I shared a common heartrate today.
I cannot get into see one. The Jewish somethingorother that has shrinks and is on my insurance said their earliest date was two.months.from.now. Ok. I will be really cardiovascularly fit at that point. And maybe dead.
No one else even called back. I am breaking down and going to my primary care physician tomorrow, and while he is not a shrink, he at least can write me a prescription.
At this point I am a junkie in desperate need of a fix. I am panicked and sweaty and breath heavy all the time. I think horrible, paranoid things about what my friends, husband and family are doing and exhibit the obsessive thinking and compulsive behavior of Monk. And most of all I am near tears 24 hours a day because I am operating at such a high level of anxiety.
Oh sweet SSRI, when will you be mine?
posted by R @ 9:19 PM
2 Comments:
There's a reason William Styron called it Darkness Visible: it's hell, but inside you. I hear you and am thinking about you. Apprently half the blogosphere is thinking about you as well. Take in all that loving energy as a way to support yourself. And let me know how the visit with the primary care physician went. I love you.
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