Page 9 of Zoinks! Nice Pack, Bro

Things are already starting to change. It’s happening and I hope he embraces it.

CHAPTER 3

ANXIETY

Sadie

Wednesday is for my psychiatrist. Thursdays are for my therapist.

Two therapy sessions a week now that I was falling off the deep end.

Being depressed had been a part of my life for so long I knew how to handle it. Or at least I said I did. Masking was easy or ithad been but the past few months I had slumped into something that I couldn’t put in words. It wasn’t just that feeling that lingered below the surface, it was all consuming.

I was exhausted. A bone rotting deep sensation of just this heaviness filling me.

Reminding myself to shower and to brush my teeth were big asks of myself and sometimes I would cry doing basic tasks. If I was even able to complete them I had to lay down after just to feel like I could breathe again.

My bed had become my life. I lived out of it for everything that I could. It was like my charging station except the charge never really filled my broken battery.

I stopped enjoying everything and hyper fixated on thebooks I was reading to try and chase any joy that I could find. Escapism to places where people were happy was where I found myself looking for any sense of joy I could find.

I read 500 books in a year and still was just as empty as when I had started. Millions of words and I still had nothing to say. The joy was still missing.

So now, it was time for me to get medication because I couldn’t do this on my own anymore.

My normal therapist, Lola, had recommended someone and this was our second meeting together.

The first one we had talked about background and trauma for so long that actually getting me on anything had fallen to the wayside. The second appointment was supposed to really get down to it.

In my car, I talked to Ollie. We were chatting about what was going on. Explaining the panic attacks I had been having that kept me up even later. The way that I cracked my knuckles and ground my teeth. How I couldn’t always breathe. I talked about how I paced because my body needed to move to not freak out but the movement seemed to act like fuel to the anxiety fire. I told her about how my heart was beating so fast that it felt like it had moved to the base of my throat and was suffocating me.

And she gave me a plan.

She gave me hope.

She didn’t blame it on me being an omega. She didn’t say that my designation made my emotions more heightened. She didn’t act like this was just me being an overactive omega.

Though she mentioned maybe going to a cuddle club because I was probably touch starved and that always made omegas feel a bit out of whack. The way I looked at her when she suggested going out and mixing with my own designation made her stop.

She said we would add it to things that we would eventually work on.

Yet, she still looked at me like I was a person without just my designation as something that was causing my grief. She saw me as Sadie and wanted to help me.

And I just had to take the pills and do my normal therapy homework.

Not hard, right?

Feltimpossible.

The call ended and I was left with a half hour of my lunch and this feeling that maybe I could get better if this worked. Maybe I could live in a world of color again and not just the grayscale I saw now.

Or maybe I could just throw myself off the Tobin and not have to deal with the feelings that I was having.

That seems like the best way to deal with it.

I’d have to gather up the energy to get my prescription after work. It was only across the street from my work. It could be doable. I just need to take a breath and make myself go there.

How hard could-

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