I am anxious, hear me roar!

Today, I did something I never thought I would do in my whole life. Coming from a family prone to depression, I always thought, in the back of my mind, I might have to some day face the facts that I may too have depression at one point or another. But after losing my mom and aunt within the same six months, I guess I've come to it honestly. Ahh, the silver lining.

Hello, Celexa, new friend! A half a tab of you every day is just what the doctor ordered.

Truth be told, I'm not your standard depressed gal. No crying, no over-eating, no woe-is-me. I have my good and bad days, justified by the pains of missing my mom something terrible. I think it's a legitimate reason to be sad, and I let myself be sad and then move on. No problem there. My doctor agrees.

But. On what feels like a constant basis, I am overwhelmed by eminent doom. This, of course, is not normal. My doctor agrees.

You would be amazed at how many terrible pictures, frightening scenarios, and horrific images pace through my mind during the day. Just in my hour-long stand-up meeting at work every morning, I can go through about twenty different ways my husband might die on his way to work.

It's not on purpose. I don't want it to happen. And I try to make it stop.

Most people in our meetings completely zone out. But not me. I intently pay attention, so closely, in fact, that I can practically repeat everything they are saying. Word for word. Just so I won't be conscious of the worries and fears that are racing through my brain at that moment.

I worry about being shot at a gas station. I'm scared my husband will slip on some rogue black ice during his morning commute. I have dreams about my residents dying in horrific ways, and I replay the images of my mom, so sick and so pitiful looking, imposed on their faces. I'm almost embarrassed by this. I wish my brain wouldn't do this, and I wish there was some way to control it.

Between tons of water, exercise, cooking, writing, spending time with family, working, and vitamins....I thought something might help my brain and make these images go away. But whether I'm asleep or awake, they are there. Hollywood should hire me to think of scary movies....they would make some pretty good ones with me on their side!

When someone throws a cigarette out of their car, I actually flinch. Images go through my mind of that cigarette jumping up from the pavement and into my car's underside...and blowing up. Good lord. I need help.

Well, help came today in the form of a tiny pink tablet and a few gulps of water. I am told by my doctor that this "eminent doom" thing isn't ok and is a form of anxiety and that this medicine is very good for that. Despite the stigma that unfortunately often comes with taking an antidepressant, I feel as though taking care of myself and not feeling so scared all the time outweighs the judgments I may receive. You judge me...you can suck it, alright?

But why is there such a stigma with antidepressants anyway? It is one of the most common medications being prescribed and one of the most common "diseases" today, and more people than you would probably ever realize are on them. I can't imagine why people would be judged for taking an antidepressant. What is wrong, I ask you, with accepting that you need help and having the guts to ask for it? Nothing. In fact, I think it's noble. I have known several people, my mom included, who would not, no matter what, take them for fear of what people may think. We are granted a short time on this Earth, and walking around with a rain cloud over our heads or peeking around every corner for a blood-thirsty zombie isn't worth it. It's time we accept our need for help and the chemical imbalance in our brains. It's time we start taking those freshly-prescribed antidepressants that have been sitting on the kitchen counter for a week without being looked at...by "we," of course, I mean me.

It's time we face the facts and do something good for ourselves! Get off those couches and march straight to your doctor!

I am anxious, hear me roar!