“Please hold.” [Pause.] “Please hold.” [Pause.] “Please hold.” [Pause.] “Please hold.” [Pause.]
I kept hearing the same old line from my doctor about how if I still needed a benzodiazepine to get through a day at work or a trip to the store, then my Celexa dosage was wrong.
I’ve forgotten to keep a detailed journal — in part because life is keeping me busy with life-y things like work and buying a house and stuff — and I’m wondering if I’ve suffered less because of it.
I’m deathly afraid of the stomach virus to the point where I have a legitimate phobia of throwing up. Believe it or not, this fear is incredibly common, and it has a name: emetophobia.
Having an anxiety disorder affects my life quite enough the way it is. Throw something as big as house hunting into the mix and it’s very easy to become overwhelmed.
I want to make a baby, and I don’t want Baby swimming in SSRI soup.
The mall wasn’t open yet and the door was still locked. Laughing, I realized that I’d never had this problem before. I’m never early for anything.