I'm warning you all now, this is going to be a lot longer than I originally intended.
My friends and family have been nagging me constantly for almost two years to go see a doctor. I've damn near perfected the art of simply blowing them off or down grading whatever had been bothering me just to get a little peace and quiet for a moment (I love you all btw, but shit man, well meant concern gets buggy after a while). I finally broke down over Thanksgiving weekend after experiencing pretty fucking terrifying panic attacks that would rattle me out of sleep every night at 4 or 5 AM for a week straight. More than once I seriously thought to myself "Oh god tonight's the night I finally die right here and now, hooray dead at 21 and that's that". I'd end up waking
up after about 45 minutes of failed attempts to calm myself down (and subsequently making it worse), and seriously she's the best. I don't know how she does it, especially being half asleep in the wee hours of the morning, but without her I don't think that I'd be able to cope with my own panicky bullshit.
So I went to the damn clinic yesterday, though I must admit I heavily considered backing out multiple times in the mere 24 hours between calling and my appointment. He had me pretty well diagnosed within 15 minutes of chatting despite me not really being open to chat about my issues. Despite my explicit request to not be medicated, he put me on a twice daily dose of Buspirone (knock off BuSpar) to address the near critical anxiety I just have all the time, and prescribed Hydroxyzine Pamoate as a sort of emergency (as my coworkers and friends have now so loving dubbed it) "Chill the fuck out" pill. He also wants me to seek the help of a therapist to pin point exactly what my problem is (because I have no fucking clue. I just woke up stressed out one day and never got over it), but that seems impossible as there's a shortage of counselors and shrinks in Utah, and the fact that I'm broke as shit. We'll see, I suppose. As for now I'm going to my best to power through the dizziness and nauseous bullshit these stupid pills give me and hope for the best. He says I need to stick with it for the next 4-6 weeks before I decide if it's working or not, and all I can hope is that I'm not all fucked up still on Christmas. I know my parents get upset to see me in such a shit nervous state all the damn time and I'm worried they'll be even sadder if I'm still as aloof and weird and anxious as I am now.
Wanna know what the most messed up part of this whole thing is? I've been resisting getting help and treatment for my depression for so long because 1) The first two doctors I mentioned it to blew me off saying "All your issues are because you're fat. Lost X amount of weight and then we'll see how you feel, or pulled the "you're too young for that" card; and 2) I lost both of my very best friends back in Spanish Fork when I became depressed. I can't totally blame them. We were 11/12ish years old and none of us understood what the hell happened. It was like someone flipped a switch on me. One of them, last I heard, is still afraid of me and the other is on weird acquaintancey terms with me through Facebook and whatnot. All the friends I have now have never known me without my depression, and the newest ones to my circle don't know me as not being kind of pissy and grumpy and anxious. I'm absolutely terrified that these pills are going to fuck up what semblance of a personality I've managed to cultivate for myself over the years and they're all going to blow me off and leave because they can't deal with me anymore. I realize how fucked that sounds, but it's been a major fear of mine for a long time now. It would devastate me. I don't have many friends but the ones I do have I love to death and would tear out my own kidney for if they needed it. Just the thought makes me sick. '
SO in the end, what I'm trying to say is: Please please bear with me. I don't know what the end of this little venture is going to turn out to be like and I don't know what my art and overall creativity is going to be like when these damn things finally level me out. I'm more anxious and terrified than ever, but I love you all.
If anyone out there is keen on getting me a present or whatever for Christmas this year, I'm pretty simple:
A donation to my GoFundMe at www.gofundme.com/peytoncook77
Art of characters doing whatever you fancy, adult or general, I don't care.
Something with a cactus on it. Or an actual cactus. CACTIIIIII.....
TL;DR: I'm a giant mess at the moment but it's under control and I'm okay.