In Your Moment Of Panic

One Friday night, after a wonderful day, I found myself crying on a bench in Brooklyn.

I have pretty bad depression. What depression isn’t bad? I was officially diagnosed when I was 17 but it had definitely been going on before that.

The Thursday before, I realized that I had two pills left. I called the pharmacy the following morning asking for the meds to be ready around 7:30 pm when I was available to pick them up. I got to the pharmacy at exactly 7:30. I got in line. After having some random woman pass me in the line and being very hormonal, I was on edge.

    I got to the counter and asked for my prescription and the pharmacist said I didn’t call the right location. I immediately started to tear up. Guess what I actually did? Called the correct location and they didn’t do anything about it.

    I waited 20 minutes for my medication. I will also add that I have gotten my medication filled at this exact location for the past two months without fail. They have my needs in their notes. I had hoped.

    I get the little bag with receipts and the bottles inside. I was about halfway to the door when I thought to myself, “check the bag”. I opened it up. WRONG MANUFACTURER. That doesn’t sound like a big deal and maybe it isn’t. My psychiatrist said that I should stick with three manufacturers. The meds I got today were from the manufacturer that I was to avoid. I go back to the counter and ask for the preferred one. He didn’t have it. By this point I was crying in the middle of the Duane Reade (the title of a future memoir). I left with my refund, bawling while walking home.

    I sat on a bench and called my mom who was helpful as always. I was so upset because I had worked too hard to actually get help and stick with my recovery and to have that taken away (that being said, I should have refilled it earlier but whatever) and I could already feel the unhappiness creeping back in, I was furious with everything. But I realized again why I was still living my life, I realized where I was and where I wanted to go and why I wanted to write all of these different articles for you all.

What would I tell readers to do in their moment of panic? Go home. Clean your room. Organize your bag. Make some food (GOOD, guilty food). Get comfortable and listen to music that makes you feel powerful NOT sad. Watch a movie or TV show that makes you laugh. Do things to fight for happiness and not strengthen the sadness, because you deserve better than to cry on a Friday night. Or a Monday night, or Wednesday morning, or a Sunday at 3pm.

    You deserve to have a smile on your face everyday.

    But then you need to find your solution. I called a new pharmacy. One that would be open when I needed it to be, one that had the brands I needed (my special brand), I got my meds the following Monday.

    I love pharmacists. I do. I love my psychiatrist. He told me what meds to get and the pharmacists give them to me. They do an amazing job in this world. The one I dealt with on that Friday did NOT do an amazing job. The pharmacist who picked up that night, at the new pharmacy, talked to me about what happened and she was like “hey, its gonna be fine.”

There are good people around this tiny little planet. In fact, majorities are really wonderful. Sometimes we will encounter good people when they’re having a shitty day. Sometimes we encounter shitty people that ruin our good day. And God forbid it, but sometimes we run into shitty people on one of our shitty days. Lest we forget, there are GOOD PEOPLE. And when we can’t find any, there are funny animal videos on YouTube.