Manic Depressive Illness: How Anxiety can Take Over Your Life

My anxiety has increased exponentially over the last few weeks. Well actually, it started while I was in the psych ward (side note: I’m extremely ashamed and embarrassed about my anxiety. I do things that are illogical and sometimes crazy. I make myself sick as well as unstable. However, I want to write about this so that if someone out there suffers from anxiety (or OCD or panic attacks) they will realize they’re not alone). Although my apartment is a mess and I don’t sh0wer sometimes , I’m deathly afraid of public toilets and showers (the list doesn’t stop there- used cars, hotel beds, door knobs, other people’s hands. The list goes on and on and on). So when I was put in the psych ward, not only was I scared of being hospitalized, I was beyond scared of having to use a communal toilet.

For two days I didn’t go to the bathroom. I held it in, praying that I would make it to the end of the week. By Thursday (I entered the psych ward on Tuesday) I was in so much pain I could no longer sit. Pacing up and down the hallway I tried my hardest not to cry. My mind was racing, my palms were sweaty and my legs were numb. Finally I decided to go to the nurses station and ask for help. The nurse’s first reaction- they brushed me off, claiming it was not a valid problem. I asked again and they told me to stop complaining and just go to the bathroom. I begged them to have someone clean the toilet. I must have looked pathetic because one of the nurses finally listened and called a house keeper. A few minutes later the toilet was clean.

Unfortunately, my mind was not satisfied. I put 10 seat covers on the toilet and covered the back area in toilet paper. I washed my hands at least three times and still tried to convince myself not to go. Eventually I went and the horrific experience was over. Thankfully I left the psych ward a few days later. But my paranoia didn’t stop there. At one point I was convinced someone was sleeping in my bed, so each night I would sleep in my clothes on top of the sheets and blanket. It was fucking cold, but I didn’t care. I was too worried that I would get a disease, rash or some other horrible ailment (yes I know it’s beyond irrational but my mind makes me believe its real).

I must have washed my hands an average of 20 times a day while I was in the psych ward. The problem was that the soap was alcohol based, so my hands dried and cracked. There are numerous other instances where my anxiety took over, however, I’m too ashamed to write about them.

Before I left the psych ward, I asked my doctor if he had anything I could take for my anxiety, so he prescribed me ativan That was a mistake. He knew I had a history of addiction and yet he still prescribed me a benzo (as I pointed out in a previous post, two hours after I left the psych ward, I crushed up six ativans and snorted them).

I’m going to stop writing. I still a ton of anxiety related stories, however, this post took a lot out of me. I hope that you are all doing well.

Dave.