I have an anxiety disorder. I was first diagnosed about eight years ago but coming to terms with and accepting this part of myself did not really begin until last spring. Up until this point I had learned how to 'get by' and deal with my anxiety on a daily basis. I had tried all sorts of different remedies such as therapy, homeopathy and diet, but it was until I had a panic attack so severe that I ended up in the hospital when I realized that it may be time to seek alternative methods for my condition. It was then I decided to seek medical treatment.
I was fortunate enough to find a psychiatrist that was understanding and empathetic of my biases towards medication and we agreed to start slow and easy for me. (I had many irrational fears about taking medication for many years). I started on a very low dosage and at first, all seemed to be going very well.
At this point in my life I was dating a very wonderful woman who was entirely accepting of my situation. I had many insecurities about my anxiety disorder and felt great shame that it was a part of me. When I confided in her, she was understanding and extrememly accommodating. She listened to me and my fears and never made me feel bad for what I was dealing with.
About a month into taking the medication I was taking a full pill a day, I had been instructed to increase my dosage by a quarter pill each week. It was my fourth week and both my girlfriend and a mutual friend noticed that something seemed to be different with me. They both came to me to talk about their concerns and I agreed that something was 'off' with me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what exactly was wrong. Looking back on it, I was beginning to isolate myself and I grew increasinly despondent with each day.
A few days later I woke up in the middle of the night in the midst of a severe panic attack. The only thoughts running through my frantic mind was that life was hopeless and nothing would ever get better for me-that I would always feel this way. I called my mother and she talked me through it and was able to calm me down. We agreed that we thought it was the medication that was affecting my mood and that I should call my pyschiatrist in the morning.
When I got off the phone with my mom, I texted my girlfriend that I was having a rough night and asked her to call me when she woke up. (She had gone out of the state for the weekend). She called me when she woke up and was very concerned. She listened to me and apologized for not being in town to be able to help me. She was fortunately flying home that day and she told me to come over as soon as she got in. I took the day off from work and tried to continue to calm down (I was still physically shaking with anxiety). My psychiatrist advised me to stop taking the pill because that pill had a tendency to produce suicidal thoughts in some people. I stopped taking the medication immediately.
Sure enough I got a phone call from her later that night and she told me to come over to her house even thought it happened to be the last night with her roommate before she left to go to grad school. Once my girlfriend opened the door to let me in, she pulled me into her arms and just held me. When we pulled away from the hug, she grabbed my hand and didn't let it go for the entire evening. This one specific gesture exemplified her love and support and she was able to help me get through one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.
Anonymous
