Even though I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person, sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees.
For the last couple of months I have felt like the medication that I take to help keep my anxiety disorder under control, hasn't been doing its job. I've experienced this before, and have usually undergone a med change. It seems that I am one of those lucky people who a particularly type of anti depressant works effectively for 12 to 18 months, then, for whatever reason, it stops working.
After hitting the wall last week I knew I needed to make an appointment with the doctor. My reluctance to do so before now is part of the whole anxiety cycle for me: anxiety increasing because meds are working - anxiety about having to change because changing over is such a pleasant experience - anxiety that I have to take the fucking things at all!
Its wasn't until someone asked the right question that I was able to make the connection between an event, and how I have been feeling. As I spoke to the doctor, explaining how I have been feeling, he asked me what had happened in the last couple of months, what had triggered the change. I answered, thinking aloud, I've started working and juggling that has been interesting, but I love where I work.... I'm having problems in my relationship but my anxiety was spiking before that started.............
My breath caught in my throat, my chest constricted, tears tipped over my eyelids... Fear ran ice cold through my veins.
The parole hearing. That was when anxiety started shadowing my every move. When my limbric kicked. Again.
Such is the joy that is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.