The Thread that Finally Broke

Anxiety- a state of apprehension and psychic tension occurring in some forms of mental disorder.

I have always been labeled a "worrier". Always had a map drawn with every fine detail of the "What Ifs" and ways to get around them. I had permanent footprints on my back from being everyone's doormat. I was afraid to say no, afraid to stand up for myself. I never really thought of myself as anxious, just slightly more apprehensive than the next person.

I had a awful childhood, and prided myself on being that one person who escaped, who made something of her life, despite coming from less than nothing. I never used my childhood as an excuse and worked hard at everything I did. I had my first child at 20 years old. Not exactly prepared, and halfway through college, I made the best of the situation and learned everything I could about being a mom. My son was born full term, and was diagnosed with a minor form of Cerebral Palsy. It was a hard blow for a inexperienced 20 year old to take. His father had no interest in anything other than drinking, leaving me to learn how to take care of a disable child all by myself. After my son was born, I started to get depressed. Although I didn't know what it was at the time. I cried all day over nothing, ate myself to 100lbs heavier and chopped off all my long, beautiful hair. I went to see my family doctor and couldn't get through a visit without crying. He suggested I take a low dose of Paxil (paroxetine) to help me get through what he labeled "Post Partum depression". Now, my GP doesn't like giving out medicine, he is very old school and believes that we should only take medicine that is absolutely required. So I started taking Paxil, and it made a huge difference in my life. I felt better and started living again. I made decisions I was too afraid to make before. They were not bad ones either. I got a job, started moving up in my career and decided that I didn't deserve to be treated so poorly. I started putting a little money away to move out, away from my son's father and start a new life just me and him. I soon discovered I was pregnant again. I suffered a rough pregnancy, with my boyfriend at the time drinking and screaming at me constantly. Plus I had to go off the Paxil for the sake of the baby. Back to square one. Fortunately for me, my kids father left me when I was 8 months pregnant and for the first time I could breathe again. I had a gorgeous little girl and started putting my life back together. I met an amazing man who loved my kids and loved me and gave me the motivation to live again. I ended up marrying him in a fairytale wedding I could only have dreamed of. We had a son together and everything seemed right with the world.

Until 3 weeks ago. My youngest son is 3 1/2, my daughter is 7 and my oldest son is 9. I am working in a high stress professional job that is within 5 minutes of my home. The hours are awesome, the location is even better. The job is hard, I hate every second of it, but I can spend more time with the kids and more time at home. Its a Friday afternoon and I am feeling a little under the weather. My ear is hurting and my nose is congested. One of my bosses is riding me about things beyond my control and I am trying to get a grip in an industry I don't understand, nor care to. My heart starts beating faster, I can feel my pulse in my head, I am gasping for air. What is going on? I tell everyone I am not feeling well and I have to leave. I go to the walk in clinic and there is a huge wait. I have to go and pick my kids up from daycare so I leave the clinic. I pick the kids up and I am crying, yet I do not know why. I go home, tell my husband I need to go back to the clinic. I finally see a doctor and tell him all my symptoms. I have an ear infection, He can't explain the chest pain, he says it is possibly a muscle pull. I go home with my antibiotics and try to get some rest. I wake up within a few hours and I have intense chest pain. I can't breathe and I am utterly terrified. I am convinced I am having a heart attack and dying. I tell my husband that I need to go to the hospital.... NOW. I drove myself to the hospital, which thankfully is only 5 minutes from my house and didn't have an overly packed emergency room. I get triaged and hooked up to a EKG monitor. After 3 hours of waiting I am diagnosed with Pleurisy, even though I am not coughing. All weekend I stayed in bed crying. I was frustrated because I knew something was wrong, but could not put my finger on it. I tried to pull it together and go to work on Monday, but upon sitting down at my desk, I had the mother of all panic attacks and decided it was time to see my family physician.
I drove downtown in a daze. I get in to see him and I start bawling. I don't know what is wrong, I just don't feel right and I am having panic attacks daily. He prescribes me medication for my high blood pressure and for the anxiety and tells me to stay off work for at least the day- although he recommends much longer. I go home happy to finally know what it wrong, and hoping that things will get better. I took my medication and go some much needed rest. Tuesday comes and I am not feeling like going to work, I am scared of having a panic attack, I am even more scared that I might go crazy. I had convinced myself at this point that I had to be bi-polar- even though there was no supporting evidence to prove that. I muddled through Tuesday and Wednesday and went home and broke out into tears. My head felt like a lead balloon, like someone has pasted cement on it. I decided to stop taking the paxil. I researched the side effects and came across story after story about the horrors of this little pill. I wanted to do this on my own. Thursday comes and I wake up feeling like crap, so back to the Doctors I go. He takes me off the blood pressure meds and advises that I continue to take the paxil. I didn't. I tried to make it through the weekend but couldn't. I was afraid to be alone with the kids; what if I went crazy and they had to witness it? What would happen? I worked Monday and Tuesday, spent the entire day crying at my desk. Wednesday I was scheduled to be off, I had to go to the hospital for a stress test on my heart. I drove downtown through a snow storm, it took me 3 hours to get there, yet I did not panic. I did not have anxiety, I was doing OK. Everything went well and I come home around lunch time. Then the severe breakdown began. I started crying uncontrollably. I called the Doctor and asked him if I could take St.Johns Wort to help me, I also asked if he could refer me to see a psychiatrist. I cannot afford to pay for therapy and where I live, our health plan covers psychiatrists, if you are referred by your GP. I knew something was wrong but could not control my thoughts. I was convinced I was Bi-Polar, that I was going to snap and hurt myself (even though I had never ever though of it before) and that they were going to institutionalize me and take me away from my kids. The Dr told me to take my paxil and if I got worse to go to the emergency room. He would try and find a psychiatrist near me. I took my Paxil, had a long talk with my husband and went to bed. I woke up feeling much better on Thursday, and it go progressively better as the days went on. The minor side effects such as headaches and trouble sleeping seemed trivial compared to how I was feeling before. I was able to do things with my kids again, I was able to get out of bed, I was able to do the household chores. I was back, and better than ever. I wasn't a doormat any longer. I spoke up when I thought it was right. I didn't fly off the handle of trivial things. I was amazed that it worked so quickly. I know I had taken it before and never suffered any side effects so I was going to give it a shot. And here I am today. Writing again and going to therapy. I know everyone has bad experiences with different medications, but for me I wouldn't have it any other way.