It had been four months since Jack and I broke up. I had resumed my university studies and landed a job writing copy for a small advertising agency.
Pulling up outside the office, I shut off the car and attempted to move my legs, but they were tingling like they’d fallen asleep. Using my arms to lift my legs, I placed one foot outside the car at a time. As they hit the sidewalk I gasped, laboriously trying to fill my lungs with oxygen. Short, shallow breaths choked me. I shook my arms and legs, counting to a sixty, slowly. Then I counted backwards from sixty, focusing entirely on my breathing.
When I felt my head clear, I drove to Dr. Brace’s office and made my way inside. “I don’t think the drugs are working.”
“Why do you think that?” Dr. Brace asked, running his fingers along his moustache.
I glanced out the window; raindrops beaded and slid down the sill. “It’s making me feel…” I couldn’t think of the right word.
Dr. Brace’s eyebrows were raised in anticipation.
“Disconnected.”
He pursed his lips, nodding. “How so?”
At that moment, I felt as if I were floating above myself, just another framed artifact on his wall. “I can’t focus.”
“Okay, well let’s try another antidepressant.” Dr. Brace pulled out his prescription pad, scribbled something down, tore off the sheet, and extended it to me.
Later that day, when I picked up my medication, the pharmacist told me the side effects can include nervousness, restlessness, fatigue and insomnia, and I laughed out loud without meaning to.