Anxiety, obsession and anemia

I had more disturbing thoughts yesterday. Of the kind that you dare not write down, for fear of them coming true. Or, that you will make them come true. The psychiatrist says that these thoughts are not ocd,  but anxiety. But, I sure do obsess about them. To give you an example, I obsess that my dogs are going to get stolen from the yard. Yes, I know this is highly unlikely. Or that they will escape. Even though we have a 6 foot fence. That goes right to the ground. And a locked gate. This is so worrisome for me, that most days I stand at the door and watch them when they are outside. I am unable to relax if I can’t see them. I am working on doing things inside while they are out (like going to the bathroom,  or doing laundry) but I find it very tough. And my youngest dog just loves to be outside. It’s a shame for her, not to mention a drain on me.

My anxiety was extremely high yesterday. I did things to try and relax, like go look at the ocean, and read, but that didn’t help. Then my anxiety went through the roof when I got a call from my dr’s office asking if I could come in to discuss my latest bloodwork. The secretary did not say “nothing to worry about”, which she has in the past when it was something minor.

Well, I freaked out.  Called my partner on the phone and started to cry. She calmed me down a little and suggested I call the office back and ask to speak to the dr myself. So I did. Unfortunately the dr was gone for the day, but I got the secretary I knew, and I started to cry again, and told her about my severe anxiety and how I didn’t think I could wait days to get the results from my dr. She was very understanding, and glanced through the results for me, reassuring me it was nothing to worry about except low ferritin and hemoglobins. So, I’m anemic. I go to see the dr on Wednesday to find out about treatment.

Then I started doing some research. Apparently, anemia can present some of the same symptoms as anxiety and depression. Well. I don’t know if that can explain all that’s going on with me, and I doubt it would cause it, but maybe if I get my iron stores back up, I will start to feel better? I will do anything, even eat liver if I have to (gag).

Iron deficiency article describing symptoms that present as depression

Anyway, today is another day. Still taking the wellbutrin, prozac and clonazepam. Still waiting for the 2nd psych consult. Still impatient about only seeing my therapist every two weeks. Still impatient about getting better.

A few pics of my beloved ocean, taken yesterday.

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I had a good session.

Today I met with my psychologist M. We were meeting weekly for the first month of this episode, this time it was 10 days in between sessions, and next time it will be two weeks in between. It’s important I not become too dependent. Which kind of sucks because my hour with him is an outlet that has been unsurpassably valuable.  Crucial even. And if I could see him weekly, I would. Alas, he’s not in private practice, it’s public health care.

I digress. I had a good session. How does one identify a good session? Well, each session is bound to be different, but for me, I like it when I come to some realization that I hadn’t thought of before. Or when M helps me to see that there are other ways of looking at things. This past 6 weeks have been hard, because of the depression. When you are down in the depths of hell, it’s hard to come to realizations. I would just go into my session and cry. And beg for relief from pain. And M would tell me it would get better and I wouldn’t believe him because I had no hope.

Today was different. Today I believed him.

The wellbutrin is making me overly agitated, so I’m taking the clonazepam again, because I think that my GP will tell me to do that anyway. M told me that I am the expert on my body, and that we WILL come up with the right combination of meds. He sees a difference in me. He has faith.

And I believe him. Even if it’s only for a few hours, or a day, it’s a nice feeling.

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And Sesame Street bandaids make me feel better about scratching the shit out of my arm. Yes, there have been elements of self-injury. But it’s not a road I want to go down, and it didn’t give me the release I thought it would anyway. I just felt guilty for doing it.  I addressed it in session today, and I will be working on it.

Today I have hope.