Two days ago, I talked to a psychiatrist, a young man, looks barely older than myself. This was on the advice of my mother and wife. I have a progressively crippling anxiety problem that has affected probably those two women in my life the most. I cannot go to the store or mall or any public place without shaking, sweating, having hot flashes, constant thoughts of going insane, claustrophobia and having various other physical symptoms. 20+ minutes in, I have to leave. I take it as long as I can, but after that, there is nothing on my mind but getting the fuck out and quick. People are cocksuckers, They don't pay attention to you or your space. They don't pay attention to their children or the fact that they are standing literally underneath your swampy ass and bumping into you.
Also, I have constant and impending paranoid thoughts. Any of my closest friends can verify this. The weird thing, is most of the thoughts are well founded. In some cases, perfectly normal and sane people have found that my fantasies are fucking too coincidental to be all in my head. You think you get stopped at too many yellow lights? Suck it, come ride in my consistently inconsistent car.
I thought all this was something that I just had to deal with as an intelligent, observant and civil human. Guess I was wrong, because the doc ended up telling me a few things that literally made my limbs tingle with intrigue. I stared as he described to me things I had never told anyone. About how this and daily stress make me irritable towards my family and those closest to me yet extremely guilty about being that way. He told me about how the stress and anxiety eats away at me and I end up using 100% of the energy I have in making myself seem normal instead of expending it towards actual goals. He tells me other things that are fucking private, so quit asking.
So, I'm all ears. I tell him my apprehensions towards doctors and how they are more concerned about the treatment than the cure. So he asks a few questions regarding lifestyle and personal preference and settles on trying Celexa (or Citalopram). This was chosen since it can help me sleep more than 5 hours a night and possibly could help with my IBS. He tells me this generic will cost $4 at Walmart and no one will get rich off it. Ironic that I can barely set foot in that place without freaking out. Funny. I think I trust this guy.
There are some fucked up side effects to this drug. I hope I don't end up with hallucinations or a heart attack, but the little shit I can deal with.
Reading up on Celexa a little bit more. Apparently some people are able to almost use it as an anti-hangover drug. This really doesn't bode well for me nor what might be the major cause or the end result of the chemical issue I'm having. I see that some say that they end up actually not having the urge to drink after the effects of the drug kick in. That's good. I know it is probably the cause of most of my laziness and procrastination these days… Unfortunately, I don't want to stop. I don't think I should. I had the best times of my life while under the influence of something. The cliches ring true in my life as they do on cheesy 80s commercials. I can stop anytime. The night's still young, hit me again. I always laughed at that shit when I was younger. These days, it really hits home. I don't want anyone to think I am some abusive and deadbeat dad. I have a good job, I am there every day. I love my wife and she loves me. We have a better relationship than really any other couple I know or have ever known. I love my kids and do everything I can to ensure their life is unaffected. I am trying.
So, night one; drug ingested. Its almost been an hour and I don't feel anything yet. We will see how it goes. Wish me luck please. I think I will need it. I'm scared and don't want to change, but know I need to. I will see you tomorrow.
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