The jaundice color of the narrow hallways made my head start to spin. The doctor called me into the office and I took a seat on the feng shui couch located dead center in the room. I started to feel a bit uneasy as I awaited her first words. The room was strangely stereotypical to what you would envision a psychiatrist’s office to look like. You know, the awkward couch were thousands before have told heart felt stories of their personal love life, the day the cat died, and repetitive excuses for the abusive levels of alcohol intake on a daily basis. The room started to close in on me as if were some insane asylum applicant awaiting acceptance to the nearest funny farm. The doctor looked up from the results and simply asked me: “what happened?” So I began to tell my story.
It was about two weeks ago I ran into an old friend of mine at a coffee shop. We caught up on 3 full years of silence, and at the end she asked me a question I wasn’t quite ready for. After three years of not talking to each other for whatever reason, she asked me if I would ever consider “us” again. At that moment….I went on…I believe my jaw could have tied my shoe laces. I selfishly had to admit that in that three years of time she had never left my mind no matter how hard I tried. I wasn’t obsessed, I promise. I’m not the creepy type of person who keeps pictures under their pillows at night and has saved every single relic that some how ties to her….“Oh look, it’s a toothbrush…I’ll bet she brushes her teeth every day.” As much as I tried to move on with the rest of my life, there was still the floating picture of her in the back stages of my mind. And finally after three years of dead silence that picture came to life. I guess I forgot to mention the monster it has turned into over the last two weeks. I’m not talking about her specifically but more so the monster medicinal affects it has had on my life. You know insomnia, schizophrenia, bipolar, borderline, ADD…and the list goes on. I have slowly become a walking ball of stress. Until eventually I hit the wall.
It was a cold December night…..ok not really, but lets face it everyone loves an introduction with cold and December. It was about two weeks ago when I was working the closing shift at work. My mind was flooded with thoughts, not unlike any other day. But today was slightly worse. The store was busy with people buying shoes for the weekend hikes up to devils head, and every single person didn’t have the slightest clue what size they needed. The store was in chaos. Too many people and not enough workers. I was the only one working in my department and the six o’ clock rush just set in. after about a half an hour of helping clueless customers try on shoes, find their kids, and offer them rewards cards, credit cards, and warrantees, my head started to revolve. It was an uncontrollable spinning sensation when all of a sudden the floor literally came up and smacked me in the face. The next thing I knew I was lying in a hospital bed with six doctors in scary white masks talking medical gibberish. “I think his valve levels hit maximum capacity and the ending product was a convulsion causing a taxing state of mind.” I think it just means I got too stressed out and I collapsed for no apparent reason.
She looked at me intently as if I was out of my mind and said: “I want you to take three deep breaths…..with me now….one…..two…..three…now we are going to explore the source.” After that little exercise I felt like I was sentenced to an anger management course. What’s next? Yoga? She sat forward in her chair and asked me “So how did all this make you feel?” At first I wanted to bottle up because she was treating me like a depressed golfer who lost the PGA tour. Then I found myself opening up a lot more. It felt kinda nice to be able to spill everything going on in my mind to someone I knew was listening. I had slowly become another addition to “The Couch”, telling my heartfelt stories of my personal love life, the day my heart died, and repetitive excuses for my abusive levels of coffee intake per day.
She handed me my prescription and closed the door firmly behind me. I felt like I was on a mission walking out of that building. Grasping that 3.5”x5” prescription paper like it was life, I power-walked my way across the parking lot. Ok it was more like a jog, but don’t tell my doctor. I nervously turned the key to the car hoping no one was watching me. I felt like I was being followed the entire way to Walgreens. I pulled into the pharmacy drive through and inserted my prescription into the giant metal box. I have always wondered why that box is so darn big. Are there really pills that large? I sat and pondered who chose the work uniform for those who work there. They aren’t really doctors, so why do they get to where the long white majestic capes that pretty much say “I save lives” just by the way they look. I’ve always wanted one of those. The lady working behind the counter screamed into the microphone: “that’ll be $64.91 for your prescription of ZOLOFT.” I honestly don’t believe she could have said it any louder. The guy in the next lane over looked at me with a smirk on his face, then gave me the chin up nod. I sank in my seat hoping no one else could see me. I gave her my debit card and waited patiently. She came back with a brown paper bag that had big bold letters on the outside that said….you guessed it….ZOLOFT. She stared at my car window with those piercing eyes and said: “here is your ZOLOFT, get better soon, and thank you for choosing Walgreens.” They might as well have put a giant neon sign that said “this guy’s on Zoloft” with a giant arrow pointing right at my car. I sped away and headed home. I’m honestly not depressed. Zoloft is just a booster for energy hormones. My doctor says my nerve endings that control stress levels were shot, and a few weeks on this medicine would do the trick.
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