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Bundle of Nerves
I walk alongside my partner into the uncomfortably sterile doctor’s office that always seems to be the same temperature inside no matter the weather. The skin on my fingernails peeled and bitten and a familiar tightness in my chest that I, at that point, never acknowledged happening. While in the waiting room, I read and re-read every single sentence in my notes trying to remember them so I don’t have to read off my phone. That’d be weird. Right?
“Fear of violence, bathroom stall fears, grandparent’s ru-…” I mutter under my breath.
“Pagan?” Asked one of the doctors.
I stood up, went through the standard hoops. Height, weight, breathing, et cetera, et cetera. Finally, we get to the part that I have dreaded and waited for. The reason I even set up the appointment:
“So, how have you been Daniel?”
My chest tightens at the question. I search through my mind for the correct way to start this off. Years of experiencing this unavoidable feeling. The constant internal yelling that there is something that needs to be tended to and I am just too oblivious to see it. All the times I have flattened carpets in my grandparent’s house, fearing that if I didn’t they would fall and die, and it would be my fault. Years of being told that my constant feeling of worry and fear is not “normal” and months after that of explaining and re-explaining to 5 different counselors how I feel, refining my explanation with every new one.
It’s finally time. I see the next step in this journey and I have to physically push the words out of my mouth.
“I’m starting to wonder if I may have anxiety”
That day, I was officially diagnosed with both anxiety and depression. It’s been 2 different medications, 4 upped dosages, 6 months, and tens of pills taken since then with years to come.
But from now on I know that there is help. That what felt like a room that’ll get smaller and smaller until it crushes me is not unstoppable. I have support now. A hand to squeeze when I feel like tearing the flesh off my nails or chewing holes through my shirt collars. Doctors that want to listen to my experiences and help me. I will make it.
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