Generalized Anxiety Disorder: So many of us struggle with it, but have no idea how to fix it themselves, and seek the aid of a doctor for a prescription to "fix" it. But what happens when that very prescription becomes the new problem: an addiction? In this article, I share my story of what happened to me when I sought the aid of a docter to treat my anxiety. I was unaware at the time that any medication for anxiety existed, so when I was handed a prescription with the promise it would "fix" me, I was ecstatic. What I did not know was how addictive this medication was, and how terribly it would effect my life. This article is to help others cope with anxiety a natural way, and to help those who have also found themselves addicted to anti-anxiety medication. It can be overcome.

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Like many people in this world, I suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Although I was aware of some of the "triggers" that would send me in a panic attack, I also was plagued by the constant worry of when an attack would occur. It was awful when the attacks did happen, my heart would start racing, my hands would tremble, and everything around me seemed to go into slow motion. I felt as though I would jump out of my skin, I would want to scream just to relieve some of the terror. It made me afraid to go places, to live. I always thought that everybody could tell I was having an attack, and that they were judging me. I thought that I would have to go through this forever, and that only made me depressed.

I found a little comfort in the fact that the majority of my family suffered from this as well. It made me feel like they at least understood what I was going through. My father suffered from it, my older brother, and my grandmother. However, both my father and my older brother "self-medicated" themselves for this by drinking. Both my father and my brother are severe alcoholics.

My mother attempted to teach me breathing excersises, but that didnt work. She did not suffer from anxiety, and it was a little more difficult for her to understand. I am still greatful to her though for being so supportive.

I suffered this type of anxiety as long as I can remember. I recall an incident when I was only in the 5th Grade, around 9 years old. I would be sitting in the classroom and suddenly go into a full blown panic. I would go to the school nurse and constantly be sent home. I missed a lot of school, and this continued all the way through high school.

After watching my father and brother turn into alcoholics, I decided I did not, under any circumstance, want to be like them, and I decided to make an appointment with my general practicioner, just to see what I could do about this. I was 22 at this time, and was tired of feeling like I could never lead a normal life. I had no idea that there were medications specific to treating anxiety. I knew about anti-depressants, but had never been placed on any, as my depression seemed to stem from my anxiety, and even then, I was never so depressed that I couldn't function.

When the day of my appointment came, I really didn't have very high expectations. I knew that I couldn't be "cured" right then and there, but was hoping the doctor could at least give me some advice. Little did I know then, that this day would lead to an agonizing next few years.

The doctor performed a standard exam, and took my medical history. I had been going to this doctor for years, but this was the first time I was seeking his help when I wasn't physically ill. After he listened briefly to me explain my anxiety, he immediately wrote out two prescriptions: one for the anti-depressant Prozac, and one for the anti-anxiety Xanax. I just remember feeling so devestated, I only wanted to know what I myself could do for my condition, and instead this doctor was placing me on medication that I knew I would have to take for the rest of my life. I had never been on medication before, and just felt so hopeless, like it was the only way I would feel better.

So I had the prescriptions filled, and started taking the Prozac the very next day. The Xanax was to be used only for panic attacks. Within a few days, I began to feel more depressed. I lost interest in everything, and indifferent to everything. I could not cry, laughing was a chore, I just felt abnormal. I called the doctor after a week and he told me to just give it some time and I would adjust.

I continued the Prozac, but still was having trouble with the anxiety, and finally one day took the Xanax to relieve the panic attack. At that time, I was prescribed .25mg, and instructed to take 1-2 as needed. I took one, and within 10 minutes, I was in heaven. No fear whatsoever, no worry, I felt like I could do anything. I should have realized then how dangerous this was.

Over the next few months, I began taking xanax on a regular basis. I loved how "safe" I felt on it. I was not even noticing how I was starting to forget things, and how my behaviour was starting to change, I just loved it. I was gaining a tolerance rapidly, and began taking more and more to keep the effect. After a few months, I was able to convince the doctor to give me .5 mgs.

My entire life revolved around Xanax. I could only get them refilled so much, so I would plan out how many I could take in a day. If I ran out early, I would be paniced. I did not want to do anything without having my Xanax.

After about 6 months of this, I realized I was taking about 5-7 mgs a day. I couldn't remember anything I did, but I didn't care. The doctor took me off the Prozac and put me on Effexor. I did not even notice the difference.

Then, on January 9th, 2007, something terrible happened. I had used my prescrition up too fast, and had to wait 4 days until I could get it refilled. January 9th was the 3rd day I had been going with out it. On that day, I was at work, I work as a Loss Prevention Agent for a major department store, and it was the end of the day. I was locking up the doors, and was walking from one end of the store to the other. All I remember was walking towards the escalators, and then waking up on the floor, far away from any escalator, with all of my co-workers around me telling me not to move. I was beyond confused and scarred. I had no idea what was happening, or what just happened. I felt tremendous pain on my mouth, and realised I was bleeding profoundly from my face. I was upset, and tried to get up when one of my co-workers held me down and said "do you know where you are?" I replied "work! I have to lock up!". She then stated to me, "do you know what just happened?" and I told her I did not. She then said to me the last thing I would have expected, she said "Sara, you just had a full blown seizure. You fell strait down, face first onto the tile, and you were convulsing. This happened about 10 minutes ago, you have been unconscious ever since." This sent my mind, already confused, spinning. the next thing I knew I was surrounded by paramedics and in an abulance, then the emergency room. I was terrified.

My mother came to the emergency room. I was in a great deal of pain. When I fell and my face hit the tile, my lower tooth bit my upper lip, and when I started convulsing apparently I bit through my entire lip. My knees were bruised and swollen. And I was so depressed and embarrassed.

The emergency room doctors told me that since it was my first seizure ( I had never had one before) that it was most likely a combination of the Xanax withdrawl, lack of eating, and excessive caffiene consumption. (I had not had anything to eat all day except for 5 cans of Red Bull) And I was released from the hospital.

After a few days off from work I returned. My face was still swollen and the wound from my tooth looked awful. I then forced myself to watch the tape recordings of the incident that were caught by the store cameras, and I was horrified. It took me months to get past the whole incident, but almost immediately after it I resumed my Xanax habit, convinced that it wasnt the cause.

I continued to abuse the Xanax for another 6 months, before my doctor told me he was going to stop writing me the prescriptions and recommended I see a therapist. I only went to the therapist to get a new prescription for Xanax, which sure enough, she gave me. She also tapered me off the Effexor and put me on Paxil.

However, she would not continue to refill the Xanax, and she weened me off of it. The only reason I let her was because I knew if I quit it abruptly I would be at risk for another seizure. So, in August of 2007, I was completly weened off the Xanax.

Then in early September I found out I still had one refill left on file for Xanax. I had it filled, and told myself I would only use it in an emergency. But thats not how it went. In the matter of 3 days I had consumed the entire bottle of 90 .5mgs. I drove on them and almost got in a car accident. And I dont remeber any of those 3 days, but apparently I did some pretty bad things.

I was at work again on September 5th, 2007, which was about 2 days after I ran out of Xanax and ended my binge on them. I was sitting in the camera room alone, watching the monitors as usual. The next thing I knew I was once again surrounded by paramedics and co-workers. My partner had come into the camera room and found me unconscious on the floor. When he woke me up I had no idea who he was, where I was, or who I was. (I do not remember this at all, this is what he told me) He had called 911 and the paramedics determined that since my tongue was bleeding and I was so disoriented, I had suffered another seizure.

This was more devastiting than the first emotionally. I was referred to a neurologist that ran an MRI to determine if I was epeleptic. Also, since this was my second seizure in a period of 1 year, I was not suppose to drive, and I live alone and about an hour from my job. I felt like my life was over.

The neurologist told me to never take another Xanax again, as it would probably kill me, and I believe her. She placed me on an anti-convulsant and is working to taper me off the Paxil now. It has almost been 6 months since the last seizure and I still suffer constant nightmares about it. I have been forever changed. And I have also been forced to face the fact that I was a prescrition drug addict.

I have not touched Xanax since September, and I never want to again. It is difficult, as my anxiety is back, but it is not near as bad, as I now know it can be so much worse. It took a lot to resist the urges to take Xanax, it was not an easy addiction to beat, but I am determined to beat it now. And I have learned from ,my therapist natural ways to conquer anxiety.

I wish someone had told me about Xanax before I got addicted. I did a lot of research after the last seizure, and apparently that is a very common side effect of Xanax withdrawl. No matter how severe the anxiety is, it is not worst risking your life to try and find a "quick-fix" in a prescription. I am still devestated by this whole experience, but each day I get through gets easier and easier. I am proud that I overcame Xanax, and I am starting to feel like I am living a normal life again. I remeber things, I act like myself, and I have learned that panic attacks do not kill people, but drug addictions do.