Coming Out Pt. 2

It took me nearly 40 years to face my anxiety head-on and with real intention. The external in my life at the time looked really great while my internal turmoil mounted. I was working in what I thought would be my career job and surrounded by brilliant minds doubling as an extraordinarily supportive team. I had purchased my first house and was settling back into a place I like to call home. I went from being enamored with my job to entering into a love/hate relationship where self-doubt thrived. There were meetings I where I felt strong and confident and others I entered with dread. I recall two specific instances where I nearly blacked out in the midst of leading a conversation. Every couple weeks or so I would leave the office to “go for a walk” which opened the door to sobbing sessions largely rooted in my not feeling I was fully capable.

My therapy sessions were bogged down in work-related conversations and largely a self-deprecating commentary on my so-called (me describing me) ineptitude. All the while my coworkers and supervisors fed me accolades of a job well done. Still, I couldn’t climb out of the hole of self-doubt. As time wore on my therapy sessions felt like an endless loop. I wanted to quit my job convinced that I was undeserving and failing. I came right up to the edge and actually made reference to a resignation to my supervisor who, fortunately, intervened and helped me navigate a new path at work.

Each night I’d go to sleep only to wake up multiple times with my head swimming with dreadful thoughts. I mentally strategized how I could disappear. I walked through several death scenarios. Such notions plagued me during the day as I ruminated on my nightly plans. I was exhausted due to lack of sleep and frustrated that this translated into daily work dread.

For the first time in my life, I began a conversation about prescription medication. I was scared of being reliant on such a substance. I was scared about it impacting my personality and my persona. I was scared of the stigma that I myself have historically assigned to individuals who must take a daily pill. Needless to say, I moved ahead on a journey to find a drug that would help me manage my anxious nature.

In the first several months of this journey, I struggled to identify a drug that worked for me without significant negative side effects. Beyond the typical side effects that accompany drug initiation, I learned how each drug impacted my day-to-day baseline. I took one pill that made me exhausted, another that felt like 5 espresso shots, and one more that left my mind cloudy. After much work and firing my first psychiatrist, I was able to land on a medication that felt good.

I remember the day when I began feeling the positive effects of the pills. I woke up ready for the day. I felt good as I rode into work. I was focused and confident. I felt like a fucking champion! I remember reflecting upon the fact that I’d wished I’d allowed myself the space for this exploration earlier in life. I saw the parallels with having self-medicated for so many years to achieve what this pill had done. It was an exciting time.

The first few months on the medication I chose to stick with were, dare I say, DREAMY. The voice in my head quieted, I felt focused, my conversations with colleagues were comfortable, I slept through the night. I was amazed that I could even feel this way. Is this what “normal” feels like?! I wanted more!