I've been living with my anxiety/depression cocktail for a long time. If I had to estimate, I'd say, to be conservative, it's been at least eight years. The beginning, as I've said before, is hard to pinpoint. I knew something was wrong, of course– how could I not have? Yet I resisted seeking medical help for years. In my freshman year of college I had some sessions with one of the campus health center's counselors, a masters student. She was kind, and I liked her, but she wasn't a professional. We talked a lot about "managing stress." That same year, I talked to my GP about my attendant physical symptoms– she ran my blood and proclaimed me perfectly healthy.
I was relieved. I knew what was wrong with me, I'm sure we all did, but no one said those words aloud. ( Read more... )
I was relieved. I knew what was wrong with me, I'm sure we all did, but no one said those words aloud. ( Read more... )