In my case, one day I had a huge panic attack. Woke up the next day a complete nervous wreck. Looked through yellow pages for therapist. Decided to give it a few day to see if
the intense daily anxiety would get a little bit better. It didn't.
A couple of weeks later I found a therapist. Great--He will
help me. Well, I was seeing him two times a week for months. I paid
his fees through what was left of my student loans. Months
went by. I cried, and cried. We talked about my childhood.
I went to a Behaviorist--followed his instructions--still nothing. Finally was referred to a Psychatrist--who didn't
seem to have a clue to what was wrong with me. Finally, on my last referal I found a Psychiatrist who at least acted like he knew what was going on. Yes, he did prescribe
a addictive drug, after trying most of the non addictive drugs. In my case, Klonopin is the only drug that seemed to
alleviate my misery, but it was not enough; I still needed to self medicate. More importantly, this Psychiatrist reassured me that the crazy thoughts I was having was
nothing to worry about. It was the way he told me--I could
see in his face that he has heard my symptomology before, and
I was not going crazy. That was priceless!
I can say anxiety ruined the life I was preparing for, but my anxiety symptoms eventually got better over the years. I look back on the Therapy and I sometimes think it did more damage than good? I really was honest in Therapy, and so
wanted it to work, but I got nothing out of it in the slightest?
I don't have any advise because every patient is
different. I can offer this, if you go on an addicive drug keep the level of medication low. You might be suprised just how long you will live? You don't
want to work that liver to the brink of failure. It's ironic, that my biggest fear when I had my breakdown was The
fear of Death. I just couldn't come to terms with it. I literally felt I only had a few years/months left--while I was beyond healthy at that point in my life. I wouldn't wish the way I was feeling on my worst enemy. I felt like I was in Hell. It does get better with time. I'm glad I didn't commit suicide.
Thank you for the honest story. I've also been there. The huge panic attack is how my anxiety issues started. I lived for years with the cosntant fear of death, that I'm going to be damned and that the whole world will collapse.
At some point it went away. Maybe by itself, maybe thanks to SSRIs, but the fear, while still lurkinng deep in me, is hardly noticeable anymore. What's left is just random anxiety and an aversion for long-term planning. I just can't do it. I spent years thinking my life is about to end, and as a result I made myself unable to think many years forward. A coping strategy that is hindering me now.
And I agree. This state was Hell. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy as well.
A couple of weeks later I found a therapist. Great--He will help me. Well, I was seeing him two times a week for months. I paid his fees through what was left of my student loans. Months went by. I cried, and cried. We talked about my childhood. I went to a Behaviorist--followed his instructions--still nothing. Finally was referred to a Psychatrist--who didn't seem to have a clue to what was wrong with me. Finally, on my last referal I found a Psychiatrist who at least acted like he knew what was going on. Yes, he did prescribe a addictive drug, after trying most of the non addictive drugs. In my case, Klonopin is the only drug that seemed to alleviate my misery, but it was not enough; I still needed to self medicate. More importantly, this Psychiatrist reassured me that the crazy thoughts I was having was nothing to worry about. It was the way he told me--I could see in his face that he has heard my symptomology before, and I was not going crazy. That was priceless!
I can say anxiety ruined the life I was preparing for, but my anxiety symptoms eventually got better over the years. I look back on the Therapy and I sometimes think it did more damage than good? I really was honest in Therapy, and so wanted it to work, but I got nothing out of it in the slightest?
I don't have any advise because every patient is different. I can offer this, if you go on an addicive drug keep the level of medication low. You might be suprised just how long you will live? You don't want to work that liver to the brink of failure. It's ironic, that my biggest fear when I had my breakdown was The fear of Death. I just couldn't come to terms with it. I literally felt I only had a few years/months left--while I was beyond healthy at that point in my life. I wouldn't wish the way I was feeling on my worst enemy. I felt like I was in Hell. It does get better with time. I'm glad I didn't commit suicide.