A new (or such) beginning

365.282 - it gets better by Michael Verhoef

Not quitting Paroxetine and starting Xanax were not the only resolutions I made that day. I tried to shake off the image that I had of myself as an ill person, or at least, I made my first attempt at it. My bedroom, as well as part of the rest of the house, was filled with all the stuff I had been using for my many problems: antacids, milk enzymes, anti-spasm meds, melatonin, tons of paper tissues and medical prescriptions were everywhere. I carefully removed every trace of my sufferings from my sight. The only remaining boxes were Paroxetine in…

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A pill that had to be popped

Bad Drugs by Derek Gavey

The afternoon after my first therapy session, my GP wanted to see me again to know how I was. I shared with her my positive impressions about that beginning of therapy and she sentenced “Ok, so that’s all you were needing”. Not really. The following day everything started again as usual: fears, lack of appetite, stomachache, tachycardia and all the rest. I spent some more days like that, counting the hours separating me from the second therapy session, that was going to occur two weeks later. Then I got back to my GP: no, therapy was probably not all I…

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Meet your shrink

Glimmer of hope by Lucas ()

The morning after I collapsed to the ground, I entered a therapist’s office for the first time in my life. No couch to lie on, no enquiring looks, no disturbing images on the walls. I found there a woman, not much older than me, with an empathic look and reassuring manners. I had been nervous since I woke up that morning, after the usual very few hours of sleep. My heart still running too fast, my head still dizzy, my breath short as I started to speak. I told her what I had been going through in those last months,…

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