Recently, my anxiety and trauma nonsense had started to get particularly bad, so I decided to start going to therapy again. This time, however, I decided to see a therapist who was part of a psychiatric practice, so in case I needed anything more than a soft couch and a listening ear, I could take things further. After meeting with my new therapist (a kindly old lady who LOVES the "look at it, it's got anxiety" meme, and has decided to start using it herself) she recommended that I see the psychiatrist on site, who could possibly prescribe medication for my anxiety, as well as what she saw as low-grade depression. My mother took Chantix to help her quit smoking, when she swapped her Nicotrol inhaler with my godmother (my mother's a nurse, so trying to talk to her about her own health is a non-starter; she thinks going to the doctor regularly to keep her meds updated is annoying...but that's another story) and it helped...at first. Then came the freak-outs, histrionic fits, and even outright suicidal threats mixed in with threats to kick me out of the house. This reaction, coupled with my mother's family generally having all kinds of mental health nonsense, made me IMMENSELY WARY of any sort of medication. Fortunately, after it was out of her system, she was back to her usual self. I'd sooner buy her a carton of cigarettes across state lines every month than ever let her take the Chantix ever again. Dear God. Before I started therapy of any type, my adoptive sibling told me that Buspar was helping them with anxiety and general brain fog, with no suicidal nonsense, and generally no bad effects. So I at least had this in mind when I started seeing the psychiatrist. After talking with this psychiatrist and telling her about my anxiety, trauma, and similar brain stupidity, she initially recommended Zoloft for me. Cue my alarm bells going off. I told her about my family history with antidepressant medications and bad reactions, and asked if I was a candidate for Buspar, remembering my conversation with my sibling. She looked at her chart on her computer and said that she was willing to put me on a trial to see if it worked out. So I get a script for 14 buspirone pills, get them from Walgreens, and the next day I start. WHAT A NIGHT AND DAY DIFFERENCE! Little shit doesn't bother me as much, I haven't had a crying fit since taking it, and best yet? Oh, this is a goody. My boyfriend and I stayed at a hotel with some friends for a convention a few weeks back. During the convention, some nonsense happened with my bank card, and he had to put his card down so that we could stay in the room, until my card's shenanigans got resolved. That right there almost caused a panic attack, mainly triggered by how cold, unfeeling, and generally emotionless the front desk worker was with regard to the whole thing. Thank goodness her co-worker decided to play good cop and he got things moving along. Cut back to a few days ago (from today), when boyfriend informs me that the hotel tried to charge him $700 on a credit card that he JUST GOT THE WEEK BEFORE. I already feel the tell-tale signs coming on; I'm shaking, I'm blinking rapidly, my heart's starting to race, and my fists are clenching. I know it's going to happen. I've curled up into a ball just so my mother doesn't see it happening. ....and it never comes. Ho. Ly. Shit. That tiny white pill stopped a panic attack dead in its tracks somewhere. It must have tripped a circuit or something, because everything just suddenly stopped, like THAT. Once I was able to get myself composed, I called around and ultimately got things fixed. I haven't been on any kind of regular medication since I was 11 years old, so this is going to take a little getting used to, but damn if it isn't already bearing fruit.
If you aren't used to daily meds may I recommend getting a watch with an alarm? And don't just put it on your cell phone's alarm app, get a watch that will be on your arm that you'll always hear go off as a reminder to take meds. I am coming from a place of "I forgot my meds like a week once and ended up in a psych ward
