What's in a diagnosis?

Premorbid anxiety, in medical parlance, means anxiety that existed prior to or preceded (and therefore may have contributed to) the onset of a different illness or other medically significant condition or event.


                                 People who have never suffered (and it truly IS suffering) from depression don't have a clue. They have no idea how draining it can be. Combine that with a 30 minutes panic attack and you have can have a real good ol' time! People who are chronically depressed at least (maybe?) are more prepared for the panic attack or are at least used to constant suffering and sadness.  Just because you have a BA in Psychology does not mean that you UNDERSTAND depression or anxiety. You may understand the theory but you don't know what triggers someone to have an attack when they've been "cured" for a number of years. You also can't expect that it will go over well when you suggest to someone "you should go see someone". I did. I saw a therapist when I was 16. It was alright, there was a lot of talking and she gave me hot chocolate and i was comforted by her dog who sat next to me on the couch. 
                        
                                   At 21 my real problems surfaced. I've always been an anxious person. fearful of what could happen to certain people in my life. I began crying all the time and sent a mass text to all my friends that I didn't feel like talking or hanging out and if I was ignoring you, well I'm sorry, I can't help it. Don't take this personally. And they didn't. Most of them. My doctor referred me to The outpatient Mood Disorders Clinic, located in the Detwiller Pavilion of UBC Hospital. I sat down with a psychiatrist (whose name I can no longer recall-but he was nice & he had a beard) who told me to "start from the beginning". Not my beginning, my parent's lives because this would flow into my own story and they might connect. They did ( I guess). I was already past my breaking point so our weekly session was full of tears and pain. I poured everything out. Everything about my birthfather (feeling as if he never wanted me when really staying out of my life was the best thing for me-only took me 20 years to figure it out), feeling like "which one does not belong" when it came to being a stepchild-and now that my dad has passed away I KNOW he loved me so much. He had to love my sisters, they are his blood but he CHOSE to love me and make me part of his family, I'm the special one who isn't the odd man out but the MVP. I miss you dad. Back to my psychiatrist. . .after many sessions he "diagnosed" me. Premorbid social anxiety disorder and (because I'm so lovely and fucked up I get 2 anxiety disorders!) acute anxiety. Now,  some people LOVE labels. I mean, they DEFINE their very existence by at least a dozen (or more) labels. I don't live that way. The only "labels" I will ever really use in reference to myself are "realist" and "difficult". Is "difficult" a label? Doesn't matter. Oh,  and one more "label"  I readily use on myself? "fucked up". Look, I'm not  freak or a nutcase (hey, more labels!) I just know who I am and what I expect from myself. 


                                 My sister  (BA in Psychology) announced last week that I am 'difficult-to-adapt". . .I don't really know what it means and to be honest,  I don't care. I've been difficult since   I was 5 years old. So anyways, the bearded man told me what my deal was and suggested I attend group therapy. No. I had the form, never went. 


It's 5:30 am. i had my panic attack at 3:30am. Tired now, will continue tomorrow. . .or not.