Generalized Anxiety Disorder
A continuous state of anxiety marked by feelings of worry and dread, apprehension, difficulties in concentration, and signs of motor tension.
An anxiety disorder in which a person typically has vague feelings that something bad is going to happen. Excessive or unrealistic worries often are so persistent that the individual cannot make them go away and has difficulty concentrating on daily tasks
What I’ve finally accepted I have
I’ve been on and off anti-anxiety/antidepressants for several years now, and up until a few months ago, when I went back on zoloft again, I had always blamed needing the meds on my job. My principal is mean, the kids are hard, I hate teaching. I’d like to say that being on meds helped me see that my principal is a normal person, that kids are kids, and that I adore teaching, but that would be a filthy lie. They have, however, helped me deal with all of those issues.
Especially in NC, when I was working for a megalomaniac who nit picked everything the entire staff did and frequently called out staff members’ mistakes/problems by name and over the intercom or in the middle of staff meetings.
But then we moved to CO, and it was lovely. I love our house and our neighborhood and being back close to my VDay ladies, and even the job was going ok. I was ok. I was happy, even.
So I stopped the meds. I went off of them.
And finally, 2 months ago, I finally had to admit that it’s not all because of work. Work is a heavy contributor, I think, but it’s not all of it.
Sure, when the guy who is sort of in charge of the new teachers comes in to a staff meeting, it’s a perfectly logical response to immediately think that he is there to tell the principal that you’ve fucked up and aren’t fulfilling your new teacher requirements.
It makes perfect sense to occasionally dwell over a single embarrassing incident that happened to SOMEBODY ELSE over 15 years ago.
Going to bed and replaying the possibilities of what horrible thing might happen to an imaginary character when he walks into the room in the next chapter of a story I’m reading is a valid thing to do.
Except where it isn’t. Because that’s actually a little crazy. So, i have pills! That make it easier for me to deal with this weird shit and has reduced my dwelling time by at least half. Would I need meds if I wasn’t working? Maybe not, if I didn’t have to deal with extended exposure to the same people. But, I have to work to eat. And I have to have meds to work.
So, all hail Zoloft and it’s ability to keep me from replaying the embarrassment of being named “Most Improved Swimmer” for my high school swim team.