Things haven't calmed down yet. I went to go see someone for the first time regarding my panic and anxiety attacks. I didn't realize just how debilitating they've been throughout the last five years. I always thought it was just something I had to deal with, things I had to feel. I didn't think there was an option of escape. The sleepless nights and over analyzing of everything in my life was completely uneccessary

I cringe when I think of the unreasonable reactions I've had that have tied into these anxiety episodes. Whenever things got really, really bad, Conrad was there. Sometimes the really bad things had to do with Conrad, but I'm still insistent over the fact that he has magical arms.

There was one time when I hadn't cried in so long after Mom died, and I knew I had to. The A Capella group who had sang to Mom on her death bed had sent me a recording of the song they had performed. Conrad had me wait for him to listen to it. I fell apart in his arms. That happened several times with night terrors and panic attacks. I'm sure I drove him crazy. I had no idea how I would react to everything. We drove each other a bit crazy, but we were happy nevertheless. We were in love.

I resisted needing him as much as possible, because his friends already referred to me as the crazy girl who kept having "episodes". I didn't want Conrad to think of me that way, so I did my best to remain independent and get through it on my own. I kept that attitude and have never asked for help from anyone else since. I closed up like a clam and never talked about anything real. As long as I didn't think about it, it wasn't there.

Then everything imploded. I had opened myself up for it, I had torn down the last wall, and it all came crashing in like a flood. I didn't have time to take a breath of air before I went under.

I ended up having my first ever psych evaluation. She asked a lot of bland questions about drugs, alcohol, and family history. She asked about Conrad, and I couldn't speak. The tears just wouldn't stop. She ended up prescribing me Prozac and Trazedone. (a sleep aid, as I hadn't slept in days.)

The Prozac takes several weeks to make a difference, I'm told... so I'm just waiting. She also told me it would make me feel antsy. So that on TOP of the anxiety it is nearly impossible. I can't sit still, sleep, or stop my brain from torturing me.

I've been carrying around a notebook, because for as long as I can remember writing has been my most favorite and effective form of therapy. I wish it were working better! I just keep drafting letter after letter, because I used to believe I could fix everything with a letter. It's making the panic worse.

I can't imagine my life without Conrad... he's my best friend. We do everything together. The problem is that he found someone else. He doesn't know who he wants more at this point, but I can't foresee winning this fight. I want to fight for him, I want to show him that I'm what he needs and what he wants, but I don't know how. I feel like the urgency to fight is making everything worse. I can't lose him... 

I don't know if the writing is helping, but I don't know what else to do.

Help me.