Under The Influence

I met with my doctor today ... about the whole anxiety thingy. I wish I had worn more deoderant. Something about having a fireside chat with the doctor makes me sweat.

Big time. Stinky.

I'm sure she didn't notice. Unlike the usual smells of anticeptic and lysol, my doctor's office smells like pot pourri.

After explaining my symptoms to the "nursey lady" who gave me a sympathetic look that I wasn't feeling like myself, I got to visit with the Nurse Practitioner. Not exactly the doctor. Didn't matter I could feel my face flush, that'd be in addition to all the sweating I was already doing. She too expressed sympathy.

Which baffles me because I wasn't feeling down. I was feeling anxious. I think there is a difference there. Or perhaps one stems from the other, I have no idea.

I was immediately prescribed anti-anxiety medication. Which I just now, dutifully, took. I got to have an EKG. It was done in 30-seconds, which amazed me. My heart is fine. Apparently my brain hasn't gotten the message.

I go back in a month and have been asked to keep a stress journal.

To think, when I left I was concerned I wouldn't have anything to put into it, the journal that is.

But after filling my perscription, banking, work errands, a parent-teacher conference and picking up the baby, I had something to write about. Add in dinner and a daughter who needed my assitance in editing video tape footage causing me to be late for my evening job, I find myself with plenty of material.

For one day.

I don't handle weakness well. This is no exception. The tiny pills I have are not a solution to the problem I am facing. I could see a therapist. One that after many sessions will tell me what the heart of the matter is. Something I can already figure out for myself.

I just suck at it. Letting it out, instead of holding it in.

How do you change something about yourself that is so obvious when you have no idea how to go about doing it. That is the real question.