What now?

I have an appointment Wednesday with my doctor... I hope we can find a way to manage my physical symptoms of withdrawal. I have been feeling better, but I'm not even half way there, getting off the meds.

Today, I dumped all this on my therapist. Therapist? I don't even know what to call him. When I started seeing him, he was an EAP counselor contracted out of the local rehab facility. He has since earned his PhD and started teaching university classes, and I was his first official private-practice patient. Today I was the first to dump on him in his new office. I'm so proud of him!

I really do feel like if I wasn't this guy's patient, I could invite him over for a cookout. I ran into him parking on the street on my way in to my appointment and helped him carry up accessories for his new office. On my way back out, I plopped a quarter in his meter.

But this guy also pisses me off, and we had a near shouting match about what was best for Jacob. Joe got a new job, and the insurance crap with me and Joe is out of hand. Dr. J and I talked a lot about it, and my withdrawal symptoms on top of that, and when my hour was up, I walked out of his office just wanting to get away from him. I didn't want to hear any more about Joe's control streak, me falling for the "bait," or Dr. J's gung-ho decorating ideas.

But one thing he said that stood out: Now that I have fucked with the seratonin in my brain, I may be having panic attacks again.

Nonsense, I told him.

But tonight I paid attention to my body. I got cramps in my back like I used to. That feeling in the pit of my stomach was back. Jacob wasn't with me, and when I caught myself picking up after him or thinking about him eating some store-bought dinner, at times it felt like the breath was knocked out of me.

And GODDAMMIT didn't I pick a terrible time to try to get through this. A month ago I was convinced I could stop the therapy and get off the meds. Now I feel trapped.