Depression and That One Panic Attack I Had

Depression is a killer, I can tell you that. It used to overwhelm my entire existence, but now it's a wasp buzzing in my ear that I can't whip around fast enough to see. I hate this. I haven't been to a psychiatrist in almost a year, it seems. Since I'm no longer paying tuition, I can't use the university's psychiatrist. I have to see a new one within this next month... I just refilled the last of my anti-depressants this week. I'm scared the new psychiatrist will want to drastically (over time) change my medications. For those of you who have never been on mood-altering prescriptions, it's not guaranteed that any one medication will work for you. Sometimes you have to combine them, switch them up, lower or increase the dosages.

Every time they switch you, there can be up to two or three weeks of intense nausea, mood swings, and "My entire world is crumbling before me" thoughts. I switched from medication to medication, lowering one and adding another, upping the dosage to the highest only  for it to not specifically be the right medication for me. I was weaned off and overloaded with too many different anti-depressants for me to remember. None of them worked, I felt as though I was too deep in the hole, and all of the nausea and head-spinning from settling into different meds was making it much worse. That led to my first and only panic attack I've ever had. I was in college and working at a cafe at the time. Our customers flowed in and out of our doors by the hundreds every shift. I was on my fourth medication in probably three months- it takes up to a month for anti-depressants to seep into your system and actually start working. I remember my body feeling very rigid and my mind very absent that day. I'm not so sure what triggered it, but by that stage of my life I had reverted into increasing self-isolation. More and more, as I went through the shaded walkways of campus, I quietly panicked as others walked towards and past me. I couldn't look anyone in the eye, for fear they would know I was in trouble and would kick me down further. Friends became acquaintances, acquaintances became strangers, strangers enemies. Each and every person came with their own hopes and fears, likes and dislikes, and perceptions of reality. Then of course each of those people had their own friends and family. It was all very distressing.

Back at the cafe, all of these thoughts were rushing and swirling in my head, and I finally burst open. I quickly walked then ran to the bathroom, with hundreds of eyes following me. I started hyperventilating and couldn't get enough oxygen, I felt weak and minuscule, as if I were about to faint, and the women rushing out of the bathroom were going to kick me in my sides and step on my fingers when I went down. A coworker came in asking if I was alright. No, of course I wasn't alright, you filthy whore. Leave me be. I walked out with her to my boss, telling her I threw up so I could leave this icey death trap. I couldn't explain to her and I was still hyperventilating, people were staring and most were ignoring me. My boss wasn't understanding, I ran outside behind the building, rocking back and forth as my hands covered my ears and my eyes were shut as tight as they could go. It was as if a nuclear fallout was about to happen and I was alone.