Getting Through Medical Examinations - A Resource for Women Survivors of Abuse and Their Health Care Providers →

This is a huge issue for me right now (and probably not only for people with trauma-related anxiety). I’m worried about ending up in the emergency room again. My prescriptions ran out months ago. I’ve been taking random steroids since then, which aren’t my preferred medication - they were free samples from a pharmaceutical study that I did last year, and the metered doses ran out weeks ago. The dispensers always have medicine left over, but now I have to judge the strength of a dose by the particular tremble of my hands and racing of my heart. Not the greatest thing maybe.

Montreal doctors never seem to be accepting new patients, so it’s challenging to build a secure relationship with someone. I finally just bought some etizolam (an unscheduled benzodiazepine analogue) online, which will ideally enable me to accomplish basic tasks like

  1. obtain life-preserving medicine;
  2. interact with other human beings;
  3. register for a master’s course (en français - ça me rend super nerveuse).

Our goldfish unexpectedly reproduced a couple of weeks ago. The babies started out as sedentary lines-with-eyes, but now their internal organs are growing visible and they swim furiously all day.

(Source: shipwreck)

I didn’t fall in love for the first time until I was 26, which is pretty late. I had a lot of problems with intimacy. […] The thing is, I equated love with pining. Only the pining feeling. So the second somebody liked me back, I got what my friends and I called the ‘grossed-out feeling.’ You know? It was probably very tormenting to a lot of men that I dated because I would like them so much—where I would think I was in love with them—especially […] if there was a lot of anxiety and pining and sadness involved in my wanting them to like me and pay attention to me. The second they liked me back, […] I didn’t want them to touch me; there were things about them that I just found abhorrent; and I wouldn’t return phone calls. I was done.

—    Stefanie Wilder-Taylor on The Mental Illness Happy Hour

(Source: mentalpod.com)