I See The Sun on The Horizon

August 11, 2024

It’s been about ten days since I had my consultation with the psychiatrist, and let me tell you—it’s been a trip.

Unlike with my doctor’s appointment, I tried not to put too much pressure on this assessment. Still, going into it, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had never spoken to a psychiatrist before and didn’t really know what to expect from him or the appointment.

I did get a chance to speak with my therapist beforehand, and she helped me mentally prepare. She reminded me to focus on the difficulties that I experience, like decision-making, procrastination, and time management, for example.

The appointment itself went well. The psychiatrist was kind and soft-spoken. His tone felt non-judgmental, and he genuinely tried to understand my concerns. He asked why I was seeking an ADHD assessment, and I shared the difficulties I had discussed with my therapist.

He asked about other areas of my life—my work, relationships, and family—and explored my mental health from various angles. We talked about my cannabis use, and I tried to be as transparent as possible. He asked about other substances too, and I mentioned my family history of alcoholism.

I also shared that I’ve experienced trauma and that I’ve been working with a therapist for many years. He responded with compassion but didn’t press me to go into detail about anything I didn’t want to.

We talked a lot about my anxiety—something that’s been part of my life for as long as I can remember, though I only began recognizing it for what it is in adulthood. The anxiety has been with me since I was a child, but for a long time, I didn’t have a name for it. I didn’t know what it was until therapy, and even then, it took me a while to realize that my level of anxiety wasn’t just “normal.”

There have been times in my life when anxiety took such a strong hold that it controlled everything—my thoughts, my actions, even my appetite and my bowels. At its worst, anxiety would rampage through my guts, and I’d sweat and hyperventilate until I felt like the only relief came from purging it physically.

Thankfully, it’s been a while since I’ve experienced anxiety to that extreme. I have therapy, supportive friends, plenty of personal development and consistent self-care to thank for that—as well as changes in my relationships and other life circumstances. Still, it’s fair to say that anxiety continues to drive a lot of my thoughts, behaviors, and habits.

I’m in a wonderfully supportive relationship now. Recently, my partner and I went to see Inside Out 2 in theaters. He and I often joke about our relationship dynamic—because while we have a lot in common, we embody very different energies when it comes to managing stress and problem-solving, and the way we each move thought the world. I’m the highly anxious, emotional partner, and he’s the calm, logical one.

In truth, I think our dynamic has created a beautiful balance. But that’s only possible—at least on my end—because I’ve done the work to be able to share my anxieties and emotions with him. And he’s learned how to support me without trying to fix everything.

If you haven’t seen the Inside Out movies, I won’t spoil them, but I definitely recommend watching them. In Inside Out 2, several new emotions are introduced, including anxiety. Watching the frazzled little anxiety character run frantic circles around the others, trying to come up with preventative solutions for every possible problem the main character might face—I felt an intense wave of recognition.

As anxiety spiraled on the screen, my boyfriend rested his hand on my knee, and I felt hot tears welling up. He looked at me with an understanding smile and a wink, and said something like, “Hey babe, it’s you.”

Seeing that little creature scrambling to prepare for all the “what ifs,” trying desperately to protect her human from discomfort, hit me hard. Sometimes I forget that anxiety often still fuels my action. Even after all the work I’ve done to manage it, it will always be part of me.

As my consultation wrapped up, the psychiatrist shared his thoughts and offered some options:

“It seems likely that you do have ADHD, but it can be difficult to say for sure because of your anxiety.”

He had me complete some assessment forms for Generalized Anxiety Disorder and, with what sounded like certainty, told me I have GAD—even though, through therapy, I seem to manage it fairly well.

“The way I see it, you have a few options,” he said. “You can pursue treatment for anxiety first, and see how that goes. From there, you can decide if you’d still benefit from ADHD medication. Or you can try ADHD medication first, and go from there.”

He also noted that cannabis use can complicate things, explaining:

“Prolonged cannabis use can cause anxiety. And it’s not recommended to use cannabis while on ADHD medication, because the two work in opposing ways.”

He added:

“If you’d like to take things slowly, I recommend taking a month off from marijuana. Then, you could consider starting either an anxiety or ADHD medication at a subclinical dose, and build up to a low clinical dose over a month. We’ll reassess as you go.”

Ultimately, he left the decision up to me and said his report would be sent to my doctor within the week. I could then discuss next steps with her.

When I left the appointment, I felt like a weight had lifted. I drove back to my neighborhood, picked up a pre-rolled joint at the local pot shop, and smoked my last one—for the next month, at least.

I haven’t fully decided what to do yet or what my next steps will be, but for the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful—just to have options.

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I can’t begin to describe 

The relief I felt 

When the doctor who just met me 

Gave a name to my experiences.

I’m not just sensitive. 

Not just a people-pleaser. 

Not just traumatized.

I’m not just disorganized, 

Not just someone with poor time management, 

Not just someone who talks too much.

I have options. 

Wow.

I didn’t think it would feel this good. 

I spent so much time getting to a place 

Where I could even accept that I might need more help.

To decide that maybe, just maybe, I don’t just need to work harder. 

Or build better habits. 

Or take another course. 

Or stop being so fucking lazy. 

Or stop getting so stoned. 

Or stop being… whatever it is I am 

That just hasn’t been quite enough.

I thought I simply needed to find what was broken, 

And fix it.

But I am not broken. 

I just need a little more help.

I haven’t felt this mix of relief and validation 

Since the first time my therapist told me 

That my difficulties made sense, 

Given my history.

Before moments like these, 

I used to gaslight myself.

Telling myself it wasn’t that bad. 

That I just needed to do better. 

Be better.

And in some ways, I did. 

I approached self-improvement 

From every angle available to me.

But the biggest shifts 

Always came 

When I asked for help 

And received it.

And now, 

Finally 

A name for it all.

New avenues to explore 

I see the sun on the horizon.