As told to Ann Degrey
I've known my roommate Amy* for several years; she's a close friend of my cousin, and when she moved to Brisbane, I needed someone to help pay rent, so it felt natural to let her move in with me. We got along pretty well, and it was really nice having someone I could trust in the house, especially since I've been dealing with anxiety for quite some time.
My medication had been my lifeline. My pills helped me manage the dreadful feelings that used to paralyse me, so I never thought I'd have a reason to question anything about them.
I've battled crippling anxiety for as long as I can remember. As a child, I was always worried, always hiding behind my mother and terrified about going to school. As I grew up, my anxiety became much worse. The constant worry, the racing thoughts, and that awful feeling of dread became my everyday reality. It was quite exhausting, and my anxiety impacted every part of my life—my work, my relationships, and even my ability to do simple things like the weekly shopping. I also found it very difficult to maintain a relationship, as any man I'd been with couldn't cope with my panic attacks or just thought I was weird.
Watch: The lifestyle hacks to try to help with anxiety. Post continues after video.
When I finally went to see a specialist and got on the right medication, it felt like a weight had been lifted in so many ways. For the first time in many years, I felt I could breathe freely again. The constant tension eased, and I could focus on living instead of just plodding along as I had been.
I felt more like myself again, and my life slowly started improving. I could catch up with friends without that constant fear, and even small tasks no longer seemed like huge obstacles. I could do pretty much anything, shopping, play sport, catch up with friends and cope in the office quite easily. Getting the right treatment had been a lifesaver, so when I noticed my symptoms creeping back, I was mortified. My panic attacks returned, and I couldn't understand why. Maybe I needed stronger medication?
The relief I once had was slipping away, and I didn't understand why. At first, I thought it was just a bad week. I didn't understand it, though, because the pills had always worked so well. It wasn't like I was doing anything different—I was taking them as prescribed, sticking to my routine, but I could feel myself spiraling. It was like all the progress I made was crumbling—until I discovered what was going on.
It wasn't until one random afternoon that I caught Amy in our shared bathroom, fiddling with my pill bottle.
"What are you doing with my medication?" I asked. She looked guilty right away but tried to brush it off, saying she was just moving it. But I wasn't buying it. I pressed her, and finally, she admitted, "I've been taking some of your pills."
She told me that she was worried she also had anxiety and thought maybe my medication could help her. To make up for what she'd taken, she'd replaced my anxiety pills with ordinary headache tablets, hoping I wouldn't notice. So she'd essentially left me with a placebo – no wonder my meds weren't working if I was just having basic headache meds.
"I can't believe you've been messing with my medication. You know how much I need those!" She looked very sheepish and wouldn't look me in the eye.
"I'm sorry... I just thought maybe it could help me too. I didn't think it was a big deal."
Her excuse was that she was curious, and while I understand what it feels like to struggle with anxiety, that didn't make what she did okay. Messing with someone's medication is dangerous, and it put my health at risk. I couldn't wrap my head around this behaviour. Also, why the hell couldn't she just go to her doctor as I did?
Listen to No Filter where Mia Freedman is joined by Dr Jodie Lowinger to talk about how anxiety presents itself, what causes it and what people who suffer from it can do to treat it. Post continues after podcast.
I was furious with her. At that moment, I knew there was no fixing this. Trust was gone, especially when it came to something as personal and essential as health. If she was messing with my anxiety meds, I wondered what else could she be doing behind my back?
After that, I knew I couldn't live with her anymore. I asked her to leave, and she begged me to forgive her and let her stay, but I stood firm. There was no way I wanted a person like her to live in my house.
*Name has been changed due to privacy.
The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.
If you think you or someone you know may be experiencing depression or another mental health problem, please contact your general practitioner. If you're based in Australia, 24-hour support is available through Lifeline on 13 11 14 or beyondblue on 1300 22 4636.
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