…hit me like a bucket of water. First there was the shock of it--BAM, right in the face!

I kind of knew I wasn’t exactly squared off in the mind, but I didn’t really understand the extent of it until I went to the Psychiatrist today. First off he has a bitchin’ office that’s on the fifth floor of this nice office complex. It has a spectacular view of Downtown Peoria (If that’s actually possible).

He seems nice, and intelligent, and we start to chat about me. I tell him where I’m from, a bit about the members of my family, and a bit of my background. I tell him why I’m there, how I’ve been feeling lately. I also tell him about my fear of death, puking in the morning out of anxiety, and how socially awkward I am. We only talked for about 30 min, but in that time he thought I was nutty enough to deserve a prescription for 10mg of Lexapro.

Wow, 30 min and he thought I need an anti-anxiety and ant-depressant medication. I accepted it and I guess I’ll give it a try. Perhaps I’ve gotten so used to my craziness that it doesn’t seem that bad to me anymore, but to someone else it actually is.



I need money for Lexapro!