I drink because I'm unhappy and I'm unhappy because I drink: Anxiety at its finest-Part 2

THE DOC, MED'S & NO SOCIAL LIFE

First, let me give you a little background of how I lived my life up until the point when I had my first panic attack. It went a little something like this:

1. Wake and Bake.
2. Shower (sometimes).
3. Either go to class or work.
4. Class: take notes, maybe take a nap, leave, smoke a cigarette or a joint, eat, smoke a cigarette.
5. Work: meet and greet the dirt of Myrtle Beach wanting to get tattooed, take a bong rip, have sex, clean the shop, take a bong rip, eat, smoke a cigarette, nap on the couch, take a bong rip, make some appointments, have sex, smoke a cigarette... continuing for about 12-14 hours a day while leaving to attend class here and there.
6. Either go home or go out.
7. Home: watch movies, eat, take a bong rip, drink a beer, play Nintendo, etc.
8. Going out: go to every bar at Broadway at the Beach drinking as many beers and taking as many shots as my body would allow.
9. Take a bong rip. Sleep.
10. Repeat.

As you can see, I lived a normal life of a college student... kinda. I was 20 years old and a sophomore at Coastal Carolina at the time. I liked to party. I liked to smoke. I liked my job, mostly because I got to smoke, watch people get tattooed and have a lot of sex (more details on that later), all while getting a paycheck. I enjoyed going to class as well. This was the year my grades started slipping, obviously from the constant partying but I was doing a lot better than most of my friends, so I was okay with it. My mom, however, wasn't super stoked about it. This was how I chose to live my life though. I was having fun, getting by in school and making really decent money for a college kid.

When I walked in to the doctor's office the day after my fantastic trip to the hospital, I figured it wouldn't be as bad as what I had just experienced the night before. 

Well, I'm an idiot.
My doc was an attractive young lady. She had long, brown hair. She always wore it in a low pony.
Why can't I remember her name? 
She was always very respectful and kind. She would never bullshit me and was always honest. I trusted her.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

"Shannon Morris"
I walked in the office. They checked my weight.
Awesome. I'm still fat.
They measured how tall I was. Then they led me in the room where I would spend the next 30 minutes waiting for the doctor to arrive.
What is the fucking point of making appointments?
The door finally opens. She then asks me the reason for me making the appointment. I tell her my super interesting hospital story because she clearly wants to hear me babble on about my terrible experience. She then says, "Oh, so you had a panic attack?"
Um, yeah.
She goes on to tell me that I could be suffering from anxiety with school, work, or things I may be dealing with internally without even noticing. She also stated that smoking THC (I loved the fact that she never said marijuana, pot, sativa... always THC) for long periods of time could cause a chemical imbalance in my brain and could actually reverse the calming effects it has on some people to a feeling of panic.
Fucking A.
I tried to explain to her I wasn't feeling stressed. My family life was fine. I was actually loving the shit out of my life. She didn't buy that.
Basically, I had anxiety. I needed medicine. I was stressed. Depressed. Drinking too much. The more she spoke, the more anxious I felt.
I was fine, lady. Why are you fucking with me?
I had a panic attack right there... in the damn doctor's office. All of the nonsense she was telling me freaked me out.
Was I drinking too much? Was I sad? Do I hate my life?
I left the doctors with a prescription, in my hand, for Paxil and Klonopin.

Paxil: "an antidepressant of the selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) class. It is used to treat major depressive disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, social anxiety disorder, panic disorder, posttraumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and premenstrual dysphoric disorder."

Klonopin: "a medication used to prevent and treat seizures, panic disorder, and for the movement disorder known as akathisia. It is a tranquilizer of the benzodiazepine class. It is taken by mouth. It begins having an effect within an hour and lasts between six and 12 hours."
A fucking tranquilizer!

She explained to me that I should not drink on these medications. I should also quit smoking that disgusting THC and if I could try and stop smoking cigarettes too, it would be amazing for my health.
No shit. Cigarettes are bad for my health? Don't believe it, lady.
I didn't fill the prescriptions for at least a week or two. During that waiting period, I had several panic attacks, especially after every time I took a bong rip.
I don't want to take this fucking medication.
The panic attacks just got worse. They made me weak. The only way I saw how to deal with it was to take the med's.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

I would take the Paxil everyday when I woke up. The Klonopin was only for when I was feeling an attack coming on. I stopped drinking. I stopped smoking both "THC" and cigs, cold turkey. I also stopped eating because the withdrawals from not being able to smoke basically killed me (Ensure came in handy... you know that old people milkshake drink). I didn't go out anymore because I didn't want to be around anyone who partied (every single specimen in Myrtle Beach) and because I also looked like the dude from "Tales from the Crypt". I moved in a house with my roomie, my roommate's boyfriend and some other dude. I bought a dog. I was "changing my life".
CROCK OF SHIT.

I was no longer involved in anything socially stimulating. The Paxil was making me feel like a goddamn zombie. I would sometimes sleep for 14 hours straight. When I did wake up, I always felt like I was just floating. Everything was foggy. The one and only time I took the Klonopin for my panic attack, I was more fucked up than the first time I took shrooms.
Am I in the Twilight Zone? Nee-Noo. Nee-Noo.

This went on for 5-6 months until my body couldn't take it anymore. My body didn't want the med's. Yes, they helped with the attacks but I was still having them at times. My roommates boyfriend (did I mention he was awesome... not) would come in my room and steal my Klonopin's.
Go right ahead, buddy.
My life was suffering with or without the med's so I might as well stop taking them.
Right?

I stopped the medication. I said "fuck doctors". I said "fuck roommates". I took my dog and moved to my own place. I started to live my life as normal as possible (normal to my standards). I starting going out again. I started smoking cigarettes again. I never went back to smoking weed, surprisingly. I guess my life was changing. For the best? Probably not. I still had many demons that would creep into my life and the panic attacks would always be lingering, breathing down my neck.

To be continued.