Vaginal Discourse

[Content note: Anxiety and PTSD]

I don’t want to alarm anyone, but the folks at NPR just figured out that drug abuse has consequences.

I’m not saying that drug abuse isn’t serious business. I just think that this:

Sayra Small says that in her early 20s, it was easy to find a doctor willing to prescribe benzos for her anxiety. She loved them because they worked so well. “It makes it so you have no problem,” she says. “I mean the house could burn down and you’d just sit there saying, OK, this is all right.”

really confounds drug use and drug abuse.

Maybe it’s just my body, and maybe it’s my anxiety and PTSD, but I wouldn’t ever say that Ativan has worked “so well” that it’s felt like I had “no problem.”

Do any of the doctors NPR interviewed have personal experience with anxiety? PTSD? I feel like this is just another round of finger-wagging that’s going to make it harder for folks to get the medicine they need.

[Trigger warning for anxiety]

At some point, I’m going to write a length post about both how trans*ness intersects with my mental health and how society devalues care for mental illness.

However, I’m out of Ativan, so that’s not going to happen. Instead, a pair of observations:

If you ever run out of anxiety medication, don’t wear a charm bracelet. I didn’t even know I liked charm bracelets, but my daughter picked one out for my birthday, and it’s awesome. Anyhow, as the last of my pills wore off yesterday, I started to develop the very subtle shakes that have become part of my professional and personal repertoire. With enough effort on my part, I’m typically able to keep these under the radar when I’m in public. That’s where the charm bracelet comes in.

“Is there a cat running around in the corner of your office? I’m pretty sure I just heard a cat.”

When I got home, my partner had just told our daughter that we’d be spending Friday afternoon at the fair.

“I’m going to ride a biiiiiiiiiig roller coaster with Mommy!”

“I don’t think they’ll let you on; you’re only three. Besides, Mommy is afraid of roller coasters.”

“Nooooo, silly Momma! Mommy’s not afraid of anything!”

This struck me as hilarious, until I realized that I’m a storyteller, a talking dog, and an airplane.