bittenburg

I still have not taken any of the anti-anxiety pills.

They sit on a shelf in my closet. I read the label daily - Lexapro, take 1 pill daily, for anxiety, 2 refills, 30 tablets.

Sometimes, I look at them out of the corner of my eye. I imagine taking one, imagine the false comfort, the calm, the absence of anxiety. The absence of the fear that wakes me, the absence of the anxiety that chokes me. What would it feel like to feel totally and completely calm, devoid of the constant unease waiting to pounce?

Hmm, what pleasure.

I imagine the calm that would take over, the slow dissipation of anxiety, in a period of days. I imagine not feeling anxious. I imagine a good night's sleep.

I've so rarely been without anxiety, how would it feel?

Then I think about my last experience with anti-depressants. The deadening of mood, the false uplift, the lack of vibrancy. Like seeing and feeling everything through rubber gloves. Maybe that was a stronger one, my brain reasons. Maybe it won't be the same, it's been a long time since we were there last.

The fact that the bottle is there, it is my solution, it is the answer to my anxiety. It is the Way Out.

This is what keeps me from opening it.

I realize that all I wanted was a door to take if I needed escape, if it became too much. I needed that door so I could find the calm to deal with everything that's going on. And too, I needed that fear - the fear of dead eyes again, of no intense joy or crushing sadness - to augment it.

Every morning, I look at the bottle and ask myself: Can I deal with it for today? Probably, I say. What about tomorrow? I don't know yet. But I can deal with it for today. If I need to, I'll take one tomorrow morning and start the regimen. There may be a morning when I need to. I can understand that and accept it.

But I can deal with it for today.

Most of my friends, and family, think that I'm taking one a day, like a good girl. They think that's the reason for my improved mood, my lack of anxiety attacks. They think that the pills have improved me or made me better.

I counted the pills yesterday, there are still thirty there.

Thirty pills, my open door leading to escape.

But I don't need to take them yet. At least, not today.