Ash - The Corsican Fox (garnet_raven) wrote,
Ash - The Corsican Fox
garnet_raven

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*****
About a week and a half ago, my insurance company called and said that they didn't cover my anti-depression medication anymore. They gave me some new drug that would "help fix the problem by targeting and balencing certain chemicals in the brain and blah, blah, blah." All it did was cause my stomach to do backflips every morning. It didn't work worth shit, in other words.

It started out on Sunday, which was the anniversary of Daddy's death. I went through the day ok (and the next few as well), but then in comes anxiety on Wednesday. Waking up at 3 AM feeling anxious, hungry, and completely terrified is not a fun thing.

You see, my anxiety attacks are based on my controlling nature; what scares me the most is losing control over myself. The thoughts started with losing Dad, which was (obviously) an event I couldn't control, then how I didn't eat dinner. It sounds stupid, but to someone who weighs only 90 pounds, missing one meal is a scary thing. Then I thought of horrible, ludicrous things that any logical thinking person would have laugh at, but were very real to me: fears of hurting someone in my sleep, hurting someone while I'm awake, going completely insane. It's like thinking of everything that could possibly scare you, no matter how impossible, and not being able to get the thoughts out of your head. I had those visions all night long and I worked myself into an almost seizure-like state. I shook so hard that the bed began to squeal. Eventually, my body was so exhausted that I fell asleep.

My Mom call the insurance company the next morning to see if I could get my old drug back. They said sure, as long as I tried another one first. Naturally, Mom and I were furious. I'm not some goddamn guinea pig that they can try their drugs on. The old one worked just fine--why couldn't I just have it back again? The guy went into some legal crap about insurance liability and such and said that we had no choice. In other words, I'm doomed to suffer anxiety attacks for the next two weeks until the company decides to pull the thorn out of their ass and actually HELP me. Oh, rapture.

God, I wish school would start to get my mind off of this.
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