Rational brain has won the argument against the emotional-poet-mystc brain. The latter insists that it is a better decision to skip the appointment and write through this, as I've reached the state of mind where I can write fluently about my anxiety.
Rational self has promised the spazzing hippy that I (we? Fuck...) don't have to actually take any pills. Or fill a perscription. Just discuss that it might be necessary, feel out what drugs are generic now. It's been seven years since I was on meds.
During my panic attack at 4:30 a.m. I decided emphatically that I am smarter than my doctor and that she is a wicked shrew in that seven years or so ago she refused to prescribe Xanax due to the possibility of my selling it on the black market. She gave me Klonopin, which 1) does not work, and 2) has the same street value as Xanax. Now I don't care if I am smarter than she is, I realize I have 0% of her medical training.
I am not sure why I am ready to weep and beg for Xannies but the idea of taking SSRIs daily makes me feel like a weak, pathetic, loser American asshat. I am aware somewhere in my brain that my seratonin is off its game.
I'm going to be late. Feet are cemented to floor. I'm going. Am pretending now it's just an asthma check-up. That'll get me out the door.