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LucyEH69 
6:45am, July 22, 2008
She sat down in her chair, picked up her computer and stared blankly at the page. It is anxiety inducing. The blank page makes me tremble. What was the question again?
“Oh, how does Merriam interpret Knowles six principles of andragogy?” and what is the answer. She picks up the 800 page book and highlighter and begins plowing through the tiny type looking for the answer. She has made great progress, at least she reads the assignments now. Before she was reading her classmates responses and guessing which one had the best interpretation and making something up.
She stares now at the book which is perched on the arm of the chair, the computer still in her lap and her mind anywhere but in her work. She lifts her eyes to the television and sees the weather forecast, 90, good Lord. She is from Maine, she melts at high temperatures. She feels the butterflies tingle her stomach and knows that the anxiety is creeping into her body, she has forewarning this time. Sometimes it just strikes in the middle of a store, driving, or in her sleep. It is hard to make sense of what brings it on because sometimes she is just plugging through her normal day and she can be blindsided with heart palpations, cold sweaty hands, rapid breathing, and dizziness so bad that she has to sit down on the cold tile floor in the grocery store or pull her car over onto the side of the road.
She sets her computer down on the floor in front of her and slides the book onto the table next to her. She gets up, steps over the dog, and makes her way to the kitchen where her Xanax is. She opens the bottle and looks inside trying to decide if a half or a whole is in order. She opts for a half so that she might be functioning when it is time to go out the door to work. She takes the pill and heads back to the living room to resume the blank stare at the computer or book, she hasn't decided which. She picks up the computer, leans back in her chair and waits for the feeling of calm to take over. She closes eyes and can feel the magic pill quelling those butterflies in her stomach.
Her eyes pop open, only 10 minutes have passed, phew. She feels calmer and the Xanax has kicked in. The email dings on her computer and she clicks open her gmail. Her inbox has a couple of mass mails and one from her friend that has not walked away from her even when she is in either state of mind.
“I'm sorry things appear tough.
You are a strong person. I'm sure you'll be fine.
You know that.
When I stopped taking Paxil I was REALLY miserable.
Like I wanted to just die, but that was too good for me.
Let your doctor know, OK?”
Ha, fine. Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional = FINE.
She closed the email and the tears streamed down her face. Let the doctor know, well, sure.
