With my 90 day heart biopsy and general check up in Utah out of the way my anxiety level has certainly decreased a bit; however, it’s still pretty high which prompted a change in my medication again. Now I’m on two anti-anxiety medications and they doubled my dose of Prozac. I know I shouldn’t feel ashamed of the fact I need medication in order to chemically balance my brain, but the shame creeps into my head and make itself at home. The pill count for my anxiety and depression has officially surpassed what I take for anti-rejection. What does that say about me and my emotional stability? The stigma associated with mental health issues runs deep with me maybe.
I don’t judge others for seeking help for mental health issues, I’ve encouraged it, then I’m hard on myself for taking my own advice? How ridiculous!
I can’t express how much I wish I could go back and re-write the parts of my life that have changed the DNA of who I am. I don’t dwell on events from the past that hurt me; I have set those things aside and forgiven. What I haven’t done is forgiven myself. We’re always our own worst critics, right? I don’t know how to love this person I am who requires medication and regular therapy to get through life. I feel broken and I don’t want to be. So, I take the drugs, I go to therapy and I try to untangle my life, try to organize it in a way that I can makes sense of and live with without shame.
From 1 to 10, where would I rate my anxiety? About 45 minutes ago the answer would have been a hard 10, now, with a little pharmaceutical assistance, it’s about a 5.