Apparently my brain didn't like that idea because just a few weeks after I stopped taking it...BAM. I had a panic attack when Matt and I went to St. Louis. Like a full-fledged, crying, snot-nosed episode. BAM. Just like that.
It's been getting gradually worse since. Now it's like an all day thing, not so much with the crying, but more like I can't concentrate at work. I thought well, enough is enough. It's affecting my WORK now. $#@^!@. Seriously. Needless to say, I broke down my 'strong woman' facade and told Matt this morning, tears and all, that I think I needed help again and should call the doctor.
The medication is now, once again, in my hot little hands. Now I just have to tell my parents...not that they'll be mad at me, they'll be concerned...especially once I tell them that it was affecting my work and my ability to focus.
UGH. This is just nuts. If you have ever suffered from an anxiety disorder or still do, you are not alone. Sometimes I think it's the stupidest thing EVER to be afflicted by this, but it is honestly my kryptonite. It keeps me from being the strong woman that I want to be, that I DREAM of being. It cripples me. It eats my mind away like some plague. But when I'm on the meds, I'm better. I'm okay.
And I'm listening to Christmas music, so the world is okay right now.