Sanayhs
Well-known member
I have been dealing with anxiety and depression problems for most of my life, but they really hit around puberty (age eleven). They have only gotten continually worse year by year since then (I'm twenty-one now). Around the time I turned nineteen, I started having panic attacks upon occasion; sometimes triggered by stress, sometimes completely out of the blue. Recently, I have been under a great deal of stress from pretty much every single aspect of my life.
Within the past week, I basically spent three solid days in one long panic attack. I finally called my doctor's after hours line and got in touch with the on call doctor, who prescribed me low dose ativan/lorazepam and arranged for the pharmacy to deliver to my house. It wasn't enough, and I had to go in to the local hospital's emergency room where they gave me a higher dose, had a doctor check me out and had the psychiatric nurse chat with me at length. She put through a referral for me to a local clinic so I can hopefully talk to a psychologist at some point without going broke, as well as writing a note saying that I was in the ER. Everyone ordered me to see my regular doctor ASAP, plus I was instructed to stay home for a couple of days to try to calm down.
I've now seen my doctor, and she's upped my prescription of citalopram/celexa from 40mg daily to 60mg daily. I'll be checking back in next week.
Right now, I'm doing ok, but I'm already feeling the knots well up in my stomach at the thought of returning to work tomorrow. Aside from social interaction, here's why:
I skipped work on Saturday. I didn't go, didn't call, nothing. I was hyperventilating, sobbing, and completely incapacitated by sheer panic. They called, and my boyfriend (who had finally cabbed over in the wee hours of the morning to a hysterical me) talked to them; they were pissed that I wouldn't talk to them and had not properly followed the procedure for calling in sick.
The next day, bottle of ativan in hand, I went in. They sat me down and lectured me on proper procedure and said that if I failed to follow procedure again, I am done. I tried to explain to them what happened and that it simply hadn't been possible for me to call them as I should have, but they brushed it off and said that you know when you get up in the morning if you aren't feeling well. This is simply not always true, but Saturday morning I had known - I woke up and immediately started panicking. Hence the inability to call them at any point. When my boyfriend suggested I call work I basically screamed in terror at the thought.
I understand that if you have no comprehension of anxiety, this may sound ridiculous and somewhat insane. It's really not something I can control, though, and for me this is reality.
Later in the day on Sunday while I was at work, I missed a bathtub (I clean hotel rooms these days). My manager came to me and said that she understood I was having an off day since I hadn't been feeling well the prior day, but it was simply unacceptable to miss a bathtub, and so on. Given the tone and wording, she made me feel like I had caused all this trouble over a tummy ache or something equally stupid. Now, I know this isn't true, but it's explicitly clear that my manager and supervisor have absolutely no comprehension of anxiety. Even though I kept popping ativan, I simply could not calm down, but I pushed through my work anyway. I'm not the kind of girl to do a poor job if I can help it. Hell, I never called in sick ONCE to my previous job when I had mono (oops). Well, on Sunday I'm supposed to be off by six, six thirty at the absolute latest. I had to be somewhere to get the keys to my new place (I moved Monday) for seven o'clock. I hurried through my last couple of rooms, put away my things and rushed out the door to meet my boyfriend and his mother, who had been waiting about twenty minutes to pick me up.
I receive a call on my cell phone about five minutes later from my furious manager, saying I didn't take out my garbage (ok, I forgot) and that I didn't finish my rooms (I thought I had), and how unfair that was and now someone else would have to do it, et cetera. She concluded by saying she would talk to me in the morning about it. Needless to say, I didn't go the next morning. I called around midnight that night and said I wouldn't be in the next day. If ten hours notice wasn't enough for her, too damn bad. I haven't heard from her since. Furthermore, I continued to be in a state of panic for the entire time I was meeting with my landlord.
The new place had some problems, too. They had burst a pipe trying to replace the kitchen sink, and so there is no usable kitchen. She thought I was upset over that, but I could hardly explain why. My boyfriend simply kept hugging me.
I find it absolutely infuriating and frustrating that anxiety is far too often simply not recognized as a legitimate medical problem, nor are other disorders that are largely mental or emotional based. Just because I do not necessarily appear to be unwell externally does not mean that I am fine (this wasn't even the case, as my face was paper white and around my eyes was a brilliant shade of red all that day, nevermind the fact that I kept breaking down all day). I understand that things like anxiety are more difficult to grasp than the flu, as they are simply not the sort of thing to happen to everyone.
It's not totally uncommon, though, either, and that's part of what upsets me so much about this. Not only am I concerned for my own sake about having to deal with this and simultaneously worry that it will unjustly cause me to lose my job (for, when I am ok, which I usually present as the normal case, I do a good job), but I also think about the impact of this on other people. I can't help but wonder how many other people out there are having problems like this? Perhaps not exactly like my situation, certainly, but having a problem that may or may not have a physical basis, and being faced with a vast lack of understanding as such.
Anxiety is hardly a super fun thing to deal with, and is not uncommon. Another very widely spread thing is depression, but I've found that to be more generally accepted as more people I've encountered have had personal experience via themselves or someone near and dear with its debilitating effects. Sometimes, though, there's simply no getting the point across. It makes a difficult situation all the worse. I've had good luck with finding understanding individuals in complicated scenarios before, but my manager and supervisor have simply reminded me how unforgiving so many people are.
Any thoughts?
Within the past week, I basically spent three solid days in one long panic attack. I finally called my doctor's after hours line and got in touch with the on call doctor, who prescribed me low dose ativan/lorazepam and arranged for the pharmacy to deliver to my house. It wasn't enough, and I had to go in to the local hospital's emergency room where they gave me a higher dose, had a doctor check me out and had the psychiatric nurse chat with me at length. She put through a referral for me to a local clinic so I can hopefully talk to a psychologist at some point without going broke, as well as writing a note saying that I was in the ER. Everyone ordered me to see my regular doctor ASAP, plus I was instructed to stay home for a couple of days to try to calm down.
I've now seen my doctor, and she's upped my prescription of citalopram/celexa from 40mg daily to 60mg daily. I'll be checking back in next week.
Right now, I'm doing ok, but I'm already feeling the knots well up in my stomach at the thought of returning to work tomorrow. Aside from social interaction, here's why:
I skipped work on Saturday. I didn't go, didn't call, nothing. I was hyperventilating, sobbing, and completely incapacitated by sheer panic. They called, and my boyfriend (who had finally cabbed over in the wee hours of the morning to a hysterical me) talked to them; they were pissed that I wouldn't talk to them and had not properly followed the procedure for calling in sick.
The next day, bottle of ativan in hand, I went in. They sat me down and lectured me on proper procedure and said that if I failed to follow procedure again, I am done. I tried to explain to them what happened and that it simply hadn't been possible for me to call them as I should have, but they brushed it off and said that you know when you get up in the morning if you aren't feeling well. This is simply not always true, but Saturday morning I had known - I woke up and immediately started panicking. Hence the inability to call them at any point. When my boyfriend suggested I call work I basically screamed in terror at the thought.
I understand that if you have no comprehension of anxiety, this may sound ridiculous and somewhat insane. It's really not something I can control, though, and for me this is reality.
Later in the day on Sunday while I was at work, I missed a bathtub (I clean hotel rooms these days). My manager came to me and said that she understood I was having an off day since I hadn't been feeling well the prior day, but it was simply unacceptable to miss a bathtub, and so on. Given the tone and wording, she made me feel like I had caused all this trouble over a tummy ache or something equally stupid. Now, I know this isn't true, but it's explicitly clear that my manager and supervisor have absolutely no comprehension of anxiety. Even though I kept popping ativan, I simply could not calm down, but I pushed through my work anyway. I'm not the kind of girl to do a poor job if I can help it. Hell, I never called in sick ONCE to my previous job when I had mono (oops). Well, on Sunday I'm supposed to be off by six, six thirty at the absolute latest. I had to be somewhere to get the keys to my new place (I moved Monday) for seven o'clock. I hurried through my last couple of rooms, put away my things and rushed out the door to meet my boyfriend and his mother, who had been waiting about twenty minutes to pick me up.
I receive a call on my cell phone about five minutes later from my furious manager, saying I didn't take out my garbage (ok, I forgot) and that I didn't finish my rooms (I thought I had), and how unfair that was and now someone else would have to do it, et cetera. She concluded by saying she would talk to me in the morning about it. Needless to say, I didn't go the next morning. I called around midnight that night and said I wouldn't be in the next day. If ten hours notice wasn't enough for her, too damn bad. I haven't heard from her since. Furthermore, I continued to be in a state of panic for the entire time I was meeting with my landlord.
The new place had some problems, too. They had burst a pipe trying to replace the kitchen sink, and so there is no usable kitchen. She thought I was upset over that, but I could hardly explain why. My boyfriend simply kept hugging me.
I find it absolutely infuriating and frustrating that anxiety is far too often simply not recognized as a legitimate medical problem, nor are other disorders that are largely mental or emotional based. Just because I do not necessarily appear to be unwell externally does not mean that I am fine (this wasn't even the case, as my face was paper white and around my eyes was a brilliant shade of red all that day, nevermind the fact that I kept breaking down all day). I understand that things like anxiety are more difficult to grasp than the flu, as they are simply not the sort of thing to happen to everyone.
It's not totally uncommon, though, either, and that's part of what upsets me so much about this. Not only am I concerned for my own sake about having to deal with this and simultaneously worry that it will unjustly cause me to lose my job (for, when I am ok, which I usually present as the normal case, I do a good job), but I also think about the impact of this on other people. I can't help but wonder how many other people out there are having problems like this? Perhaps not exactly like my situation, certainly, but having a problem that may or may not have a physical basis, and being faced with a vast lack of understanding as such.
Anxiety is hardly a super fun thing to deal with, and is not uncommon. Another very widely spread thing is depression, but I've found that to be more generally accepted as more people I've encountered have had personal experience via themselves or someone near and dear with its debilitating effects. Sometimes, though, there's simply no getting the point across. It makes a difficult situation all the worse. I've had good luck with finding understanding individuals in complicated scenarios before, but my manager and supervisor have simply reminded me how unforgiving so many people are.
Any thoughts?
