Friday was a bust...

Gah, I need to go to the doctor.

Social anxiety is rearing it's ugly little head into my life again and there isn't a darn thing I can do on my own to fix it.

Just about two years ago I finally decided to go to the doctor to ask for something to help my fear of public places, people I do and don't know, and incessant sweating.

G would ask if I wanted to go to meet up with friends after work on a Friday. Of course I did! Friday would roll around and when it was time to leave the house, I didn't want to go. There was something wrong... anything I could find wrong, I would. My hair was horrible, my makeup was wrong, my clothes were too tight etc. I would break down and there wasn't anything I could do to control it.

Poor G.

So the doctor prescribed me Lexapro and Xanax. Da-da-daaaaa, the miracle pill! She prescribed it on the condition that I should be able to "learn" how to act and react properly in the situations that usually through me into a tizzy. For awhile it was weird because I didn't feel anything. Nothing bothered me, and for G, he was a bit confused on weather he liked the irrational me or the unfeeling, unreactive me. He could be a total a-hole and I'd just sit there, thinking "whatever dude, can't phase me!"

So I stayed on my meds and it made a huge difference! I loved it and I loved the way I felt. I wasn't introverted, shy, and unspoken. I was more outgoing, open, and not afraid to speak. It felt great and I felt like I was learning a lot from being on my meds.

In June, of course, we moved to Colorado and I have yet to find a doctor. I thought I had learned the correct behaviors and reactions to situations that used to bother me, so I stopped taking my meds.


I am now a freak again and am avoiding people, places, and phone calls. I wish I could control my behavior, but I can't. The best way I can explain this is trying to convince your brain that what it deems irrational, rational. It's like trying to convince yourself that pulling off a scab won't hurt. You know it will, but try to convince yourself otherwise, and pull it off. No-way-Jose.

So now I'm onto the doctor hunt. I always worry that with all of the non-freaks that are merely drug seekers, my new doctor won't believe me or write me off. I hate that feeling too, but maybe that's part of my viewing the world through an irrational, chemically imbalanced brain.

I don't even want to get into what Friday night turned into... maybe later.