The Lady That Reminds Me How Sick I Was

pharmacistYesterday after going to the vet’s office I continued to do my errands. I ended up at the grocery store and made quick eye contact with the pharmacist in the little prescription area that is in the front of the store.

This pharmacist used to work at the drug store where I fill my prescriptions. And from 15 years ago up until just over 2 years ago, I was on a LOT of medication…She filled HUNDREDS of prescriptions for me over the years…

Seeing that lady takes me back and reminds me how sick I was with anxiety. This lady doesn’t know that I’m better now.

On a side not, I still have to make a pharmacy visit once a month for my Klonopin- you are only allowed by law to have a one month’s supply. Or I don’t know, maybe that’s just my doctor’s law but it is some law or rule…

I actually don’t mind picking up my medicine these days for a number of reasons:

First, I’m not on an alarmingly high dose of Klonopin like I was for so many years. Not that it’s anything to be to be embarrassed about but I’m sure this stood out.

Second, I’m not on a cornucopia of other medications to help keep me balanced – you know, a little bit of Xanax or a lot of Xanax, or extra strength Xanax plus all the antidepressants to help me get out of bed in the morning… (Not that there’s anything wrong with that either, but back in the day I was scared and ashamed of everything..I would never in a million years tell anyone I needed to take medication for panic attacks and raging social anxiety symptoms.)

And thirdly
, I feel so much better about the whole medication thing and myself in general. It feels good not to be completely dependent on medications to be able to leave the house and function. And part and parcel of my anxiety recovery has been to accept who I am and be compassionate to myself…

And because I sometimes see this pharmacist when I go to the grocery store, part of me wants to march right up to her and tell her- Hey I’m really ok now.

She was never anything but professional and courteous to me, but still I wonder. We’re about the same age, and she “knows” my deal with anxiety. Does she ever wonder: is that poor girl still off her rocker?

There is still a little embarrassment about how I used to be… I guess that’s part of being human.

I wish you peace,

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