An Unexpected Encounter with Socialized Medicine

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

By Daren Anderson

Standing at a hospital checkout desk, credit card in hand, can be nerve-wracking. How much will it cost? Is my credit limit sufficient? Will there be more bills later when they calculate the radiologist’s fees or blood tests? Will I need to dip into a home equity line of credit to cover the costs?

But wait — we are in Italy. Maybe healthcare is different here.

We waited in line at the cashier’s desk for about 10 seconds before being called up. A few keystrokes later, we had a bill for $177, paid for with our Visa, and we were on our way.

What, do you suppose, do you get for $177 in an Italian hospital? A glass of orange juice? A CBC?

In Italy, $177 was the total charge for an ambulance ride on a backboard, an emergency room assessment, an X-ray of the lumbar spine, a head CT, an electrocardiogram, and an orthopedic telehealth consultation from the University Hospital in the nearby city of Perugia.

All of these services were provided for Esterina after she slipped on wet pavement in Assisi and fell hard on her sacrum. The fall itself was painful, but the shock, pain, and stress of the event caused her to faint, prompting an ambulance trip to the ER.

You might wonder whether you get what you pay for. Joking aside, in the US this entire event would likely have cost thousands of dollars, some covered by insurance and some not. Would the care have been thousands of dollars better?

The entire experience lasted about four hours. The ambulance took roughly 20 minutes to reach us on streets designed for mules, not advanced life support vehicles. Upon arrival in the ER, Esterina spent about 15 minutes on a stretcher in a hallway before being wheeled into an assessment room where an ER physician sat at a desk asking questions while a nurse relayed them and performed a cursory exam. An ECG was quickly performed and found to be normal. An X-ray of the lumbar spine was ordered. Although we were all certain she had not hit her head, a CT scan was ordered nonetheless for a fall associated with loss of consciousness.

After the consultation, we were back out in the hallway. We waited about 30 minutes for the radiology room to free up, watching several more seriously injured patients appropriately move ahead of us for imaging. Finally, lumbar films were taken, followed shortly afterward by the CT, and once again we returned to the hallway.

We spent much of the next two hours there, staring at a few bad pieces of art on the walls and watching patients, some bleeding, some moaning, some stoic, come and go. Eventually we learned that the CT was normal, but the spine film showed a “cortical irregularity” in the S3-S4 region. In other words, there may have been a small sacral fracture, though the findings were equivocal.

The ER physician was not comfortable discharging her without an orthopedic consultation. The orthopedist was in the operating room, and no one knew when he or she would be available. There was even discussion of transferring her to a larger hospital.

This was a dark moment for both of us.

I try very hard not to “play doctor” when family members are involved. Judgment can be clouded by emotion, and I have not actively practiced clinical medicine in over 10 years. Still, the concern about transfer felt disproportionate to her clinical condition. She had no neurologic findings, minimal pain, and no clear fracture. Rest, movement as tolerated, and some ibuprofen seemed the likely outcome.

Fortunately, soon afterward an orderly came out and explained that the orthopedist had reviewed the films remotely, spoken with the ER physician, and cleared her for discharge. Ibuprofen as needed. Nothing further.

Ten minutes later we were at the cashier, Visa in hand, and a few minutes after that we were on our way back to our hotel.

Once the trauma, fear, and emotion of the event settled, we had ample time to reflect on our healthcare experience in Italy and to compare it with our own system back home. All in all, the right things were done. The ECG and CT scan made sense. The diagnosis was appropriate, and she was triaged correctly from the start. Getting an orthopedic consultation for a marginal finding may have been somewhat excessive, but it happened quickly enough that the reassurance was probably worthwhile.

In Italy, we got the basics, without the frills. The hospital has no shareholders and earns no profit from our visit or anyone else’s. There was no prior authorization process and no insurance intermediary standing between patient and physician. The radiologist, ER doctor, and orthopedist earn far less than their American counterparts. Yet we still received the essential components of appropriate emergency care, and the outcome was entirely appropriate.

So what might more money have bought?

Better artwork on the walls, certainly. Better bedside manner as well. The physician never actually spoke directly with us, and the nurses and orderlies, while professional, were fairly scarce and often brusque when relaying information. More money might have purchased a more thorough exam. I was somewhat surprised that Esterina was never placed in a hospital gown or given a complete physical examination. She remained in her street clothes and sneakers the entire time — admittedly making it easier to get up and leave.

More money also might have bought a blanket. Throughout the experience Esterina was cold. I covered her with both of our coats along with a thin hospital sheet that I had to request. Perhaps more money would have bought us a curtained exam room like those seen on The Pitt instead of a dingy hallway.

It also could have purchased better facilities and groundskeeping. Many of the hospitals we have seen in Italy, including this one, feel austere and physically underinvested, more functional than welcoming. Tall grass and weeds surround institutional-looking concrete buildings that appear to receive little attention beyond what is necessary to keep them operational.

The biggest thing we did not receive, however, was kindness or reassurance. Everyone was professional, but there was very little warmth. No smiles. No expressions of concern. No one paid much attention to Esterina’s non-life-threatening symptoms or comfort. She was nauseated, dizzy, cold and scared. No one asked. No one checked.

Still, it is important to remember that we were technically uninsured in Italy, even though we carry international coverage that will reimburse us for the charges. An Italian citizen likely would not have paid anything at all for the same care. In the United States, an uninsured person experiencing a similar event could easily face thousands of dollars in bills unless they were fortunate enough to qualify for charity care, Medicaid, or other assistance programs.

How much are all these “extras” worth? Are they worth having 5–20% of the population uninsured? Are they worth a system that can leave people financially devastated by illness or accident? Are they worth the inequities that still define so much of American healthcare?

Personally, I do not believe we should have to choose between humane affordability and humane care. Italian healthcare could use more warmth, comfort, and investment. American healthcare could use far less profiteering and inequity.

Most surprising of all, however, we have not received a single call or card from an injury attorney. And I have not seen a single billboard advertising one anywhere in Umbria.

Back to travel, back to Italian food, and back to health!

Exterior view of a circular building with the sign 'SUB DISTRETTO CIRCO' on the facade, surrounded by trees and grass under a clear blue sky.

A dingy hospital in South Italy (not the one we were in in Assisi)

On the Importance of Food, Shelter and Clothing

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Most mornings and evenings I walk with my husband and our beloved black lab mix, Koji. In the morning, with limited time, we walk down the shore and back and observe the day awaken. In the evenings, we take a longer walk. Depending on the time of year, we are catching the height of the evening’s festivities, the daily wind-down, or the flat-out night in our neighborhood (summer to winter span).

This morning it is late September. The air is cool, and I wore my lightweight, dark blue raincoat I purchased in Maine a few years ago during an unexpected rainstorm while in Perkins Cove.

I already had my morning coffee. I wasn’t yet hungry. I was not stressing about what may be in my work inbox. My life felt content, and I was alive.

So very alive that my senses were more open.

I felt the crisp autumn air around me. I held my arms out and inhaled deep breaths. A few times in the past week or so, I was able to detect the smell of wood burning in a nearby fireplace.

I heard the dog sniffing. I heard the squirrels shuffling across the grass and their tiny feet crunching the dried fallen leaves. I heard water from the shore in the distance. I heard a lot of bird signals and whistles. Mingled into it all were the sounds of crickets and other unidentified woodland creatures. I closed my eyes to help my ears hear it all. What a song!

As we approached the shore, I noticed the early morning light dancing across the water. The sun hadn’t quite made its way above the horizon, but the light was creating a spectacular palette of color nonetheless.

I didn’t have my phone and asked my husband for his. I snapped a short video of the rippling water and rising sun. It looked beautiful through the camera, but more beautiful in real life. Nothing captures the moment like living, breathing, and appreciating the actual moment.

On the way back home, I contemplated nature with teeming life around me. I’ve been wanting to go back to being vegan. I do not need to eat so much. Some people have no healthy or good food options. Others have no food at all.

This got me thinking… How can you have an appreciation for life when you are hungry? When your body is so primed to keep itself alive, it is not thinking about other lives. It is telling you to feed it.

Sometimes I walk at lunch. Almost always after dinner. I thought about how I don’t always enjoy these walks so much. When I am not dressed right, when I am in a rush and worried about getting back to my computer, or when I am thirsty or hungry and fantasizing about what to eat or drink when I get back home is when I enjoy these walks the least.

I, like every other human, feel content when I have food, shelter, and clothing. Next up on Maslow’s pyramid is safety.

For years I did not feel psychologically “safe” with my husband. For reasons that belong to another blog, his perception of how to approach the issues in our lives brought a proverbial fire alarm in me. When I worry about work or the kids, or when I don’t feel psychologically safe, the ability to have my senses pick out subtle sounds and visual nuances is dulled. I don’t notice what the dog is doing if I am walking him, and then I’ll subsequently feel annoyed with him. I’m not present to those walks or my life when I don’t have the bottom of the pyramid covered.

As we continued home this morning, I contemplated how I felt safe—safe with my husband, who at that very moment of my quiet contemplation seemed to sense just that by reaching down to gently place my hand into his. I felt safe with him and in my neighborhood.

How can anyone feel safe living in the “hood” just a few miles down the road? How can you feel like the world is beautiful when outside your window is nothing more than buildings that block the sun? Where there might be a dangerous concrete jungle? Where the sound of birds and crickets is overtaken by honking horns, someone yelling, loud street signs, and overall chaos? If your walk to school or commute to work is fraught with fear and anxiety about being safe and what may greet you when you get there, how can you be comfortable and take a moment to appreciate life?

How can anyone thrive without life’s basics?

A flower cannot grow without a medium, sun, and water.

A human cannot flourish without food, shelter, clothing, and safety.

They just can’t.

Anyone who says we live in the land of the free and that anyone can make it is naïve.

I’d like to think that too, but people who don’t feel safe at home or anywhere in their surroundings during their day-to-day life are not free. They are prisoners of their own heightened senses that are keeping them alive. When a human is hungry, they cannot think of anything else but how to eat. When we are cold or too hot, our body turns other senses off to divert energy into keeping us alive. No shelter or an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement leads to sleep deprivation. No one thrives when their body is too tired to function.

I personally don’t know what to do other than what I already try to do. But I want to do more.

If you feel you have food, shelter, clothing, and psychological safety at the moment—perhaps just take a few seconds to stop and think about one thing you can do to lift the consciousness of others so they can be happier and more productive members of society too.

This morning I appreciated life. I wanted to be better, do better, go vegan. I felt that way because my needs were met and I was able to look past myself and help this beautiful world around me thrive. I wanted to protect nature. I wanted to bring other humans to a place where they could see and appreciate what I was able to at that moment.

Pay it forward. Forward this message. Activate and do something, anything… and give me some ideas back along the way…

Only we can help each other—our families, our neighbors, our communities. It starts with me. It starts with you.

If just one person does one thing to help raise us all as humans from reading this blog, then I consider that a success.

If you enjoyed my writing, consider leaving a comment, sharing with others, or following my blog.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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You are the MOST important person on your gift list

Posted on by Esterina Anderson
  • You are the most important person to take care of. Give your time and attention to yourself first.

    That statement can be misunderstood, so it’s worth clarifying what it does and does not mean. It is not a justification to be selfish, ignore others, break commitments, or dismiss the impact we have on people. It simply means that without taking care of ourselves, we don’t have much to offer anyone else.

    It’s similar to a car that won’t run without gas. We need rest, nourishment, and experiences that genuinely support our well-being. That nourishment isn’t only physical. It can come from time with people we love, being in nature, quiet moments alone, creative outlets, or practices like meditation or prayer. The specifics are different for each of us, but the principle is the same: when we are depleted, everything else suffers.

    Taking care of ourselves is not about accumulation or external things. It’s about being filled in a way that allows us to move through the world with more clarity and energy.

    Giving to others is one of the most meaningful ways to experience that sense of fullness. When it comes from a genuine place, it often feels better than receiving. It allows us to share what we have—our time, attention, care, or presence—in a way that connects us to others.

    This kind of giving is not about obligation. It’s not tied to holidays, expectations, or social pressure. It happens when we recognize a need and respond to it naturally, without keeping score. It’s an extension of having something to give in the first place.

    At the same time, there is an important distinction to be made. Not all giving is received in the same way, and not all of it is sustainable.

    There was a time when I spent a great deal of energy trying to give to people in my life—family members, friends, colleagues—in ways that weren’t recognized or appreciated. It wasn’t something anyone asked for. It was something I chose to do, often out of a desire to make others happy or maintain relationships. Over time, it became draining.

    That experience made something clearer to me. There is a difference between a simple “thank you” and a deeper sense of gratitude. Gratitude carries a kind of presence and appreciation that goes beyond acknowledgment. It has a way of continuing forward, often showing up as care, respect, or a desire to give in return, not necessarily to the same person, but outward into the world.

    When giving is consistently met without that kind of awareness, it can start to feel one-sided. Over time, that imbalance depletes rather than connects.

    This doesn’t mean we stop giving. It means we become more aware of where our energy goes. Giving where it is received with appreciation tends to create a cycle that continues, while giving where it is not can quietly drain us.

    In that way, taking care of ourselves and giving to others are not separate ideas. They are connected. When we are grounded and supported, we are better able to give in ways that are meaningful. And when we give in environments where it is received, it reinforces that sense of balance.

    Learning to recognize that difference has been part of my own process. It has shifted how I think about where I place my energy and how I choose to give it.

    Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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Sunday Mornings

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Sunday mornings have always had a feel to me of a new dawning. No matter where I’ve been on a Sunday morning, I have felt a certain vibe in the air—that the day is even fresher than the Saturday and weekday mornings before it.

In cities, coffee shops are just opening, few cars are in movement on the streets, and most stores are closed. There is a certain quiet in the air. Softer movements. A slower vibe.

In suburban and rural towns, the atmosphere also has a peaceful quality. The strip mall lots and main streets are mostly empty, except perhaps for a convenience store, gas station, or breakfast shop.

Sunday morning is not quite as exciting to me as Saturday morning. Saturday morning is about chores, shopping, making plans for the evening. Sunday, for me, is more about taking time to wake up—enjoying my cup of coffee longer, mentally and physically getting ready for the week ahead, and having a whole day ahead of me to do so.

This cloudy, albeit beautiful morning is so very typical at this time in my life. I am up before anyone else at the moment. I came downstairs to the main kitchen/living area and it looks like (what we like to say) a bomb. But it is a bomb that I love. This scene is a snapshot in time—my life at almost 43, my family, where I happen to be in the world.

On Sunday morning, my house often has blankets strewn about the couches, the floor, and perhaps even a kitchen chair. Yesterday’s paper is usually lying about in a neat heap, still waiting to be read. The cats are milling and meowing like crazy for their morning meal of a little wet food. The counters and coffee table will often have mostly empty popcorn or snack bowls. A cold tea bag sits in an empty Starbucks mug from one of the cities we have visited. More often than not, there is an espresso cup somewhere with a small circle of dried, dark remnants sitting at the bottom. An open, unfinished bottle of wine sits on the counter with an accompanying wine glass or two—either in the sink with an amount too small to finish lying in the lowest nook of the glass, or haphazardly rinsed and left in the dish drain to dry. It’s not difficult to see what we did before bed, be it a puzzle, a card game, or just some movies, since the TV remotes or pieces of whatever we were doing are mostly left where we had them when everyone retired for bed.

I will either be up alone or with the hubby. The first order of business is to start the coffee. Then we quiet the little milling lions, who get increasingly vocal by the second until they receive their ever-so-desired wet, stinky cat food. Either alone or splitting up the tasks, we will start to load the dishwasher, open the blinds, fold the blankets, and put the house back in order.

Today I’m alone. I woke up before Daren, excited to begin a new day and continue to work on a painting that I am in the midst of completing. I cleaned up the house and then sat on the living room floor with two pillows beneath me, facing the East, to do some morning breathing and meditation. It’s a cloudy, dreary, gray morning—but beautiful nonetheless. The sun is still making its way up and about and brightening the day, even though we can’t see it.

I couldn’t help but take a picture of the scene I was looking at. Every morning it looks different. Even in its drab form, this morning was picturesque to me. I stepped outside to get a closer shot, and the air felt so fresh and cool I didn’t want to go back in. But I did—simply to get a chair and two blankets to take my morning practices outside.

It feels like Sunday. Even in February, birds are singing. I can’t see the town or even much of our neighborhood from the back porch, but nonetheless it has the Sunday morning vibe of serenity that I enjoy so much.

Nothing exciting, but I am feeling intense gratitude and oneness with the world at the moment. A snapshot in time. It’s just a beautiful and precious Sunday morning.

The page has turned. The week, day, and month are fresh. We write the story, whether we do so intentionally or not. Be mindful of your thoughts.

Namaste.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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A Frigid New England Morning

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I take a deep breath on this frigid New England morning. The air feels cold and steely in my lungs, but at the same time incredibly refreshing compared to the recirculated, dry, warm air in the house just two feet behind me. I am barefoot on the small, colorful, and very wet welcome mat on my back deck. From inside, it looked a bit warmer out, but one inhale tells a different story.

The thermometer reads 22 degrees Fahrenheit. Even though the air is cold and frigid, there are several signs that spring is on the way. The most exciting sign for me is the red buds on the trees that border our yard. Despite the cold, the trees are aware of the subtle shifts in the atmosphere and are preparing to put forth an abundance of greenery in just a few short weeks. While I’m looking out, I can see frost on top of the barbecue cover, yet I hear birds singing and chirping in the air. That is not something I can say in February. Just the mere fact that the porch furniture was put out means there was a day warm enough not long ago that prompted us to ritualistically begin preparations for the warmer months.

In the evenings, while lying in bed, I am able to hear the peeper frogs through my closed bedroom window. In the late spring and summer, when we sleep with the windows open, we not only hear the peepers, but all types of crickets and woodsy life through the evening.

For months, the ground has been receiving precipitation in the form of freezing rain and snow. But the ground was solid, even during some of the unusually warm 50-degree days in the past few months. Despite the cold, the extra sun is warming the ground enough to keep a thaw, as evidenced by my weight digging ever so slightly into the dirt. This I notice while walking the dog after dinner or while cutting across the lawn to grab the mail.

As I stand on the deck looking out, I feel a flutter of excitement in my chest. Summer is on the way. The cover on the grill will be perpetually removed as we spend many evenings cooking outside instead of in the kitchen. The deck furniture will constantly be moved, full of crumbs and stained with ketchup due to the many hours we spend shifting chairs from the sun, pulling one closer to watch a movie together around a laptop, and eating almost every meal al fresco.

A look over the deck down to the yard below has my heart fluttering a bit more. We have a really large garden that is now empty down the hill in our sloped yard. Very soon, the asparagus tips will start shooting out from the ground on the right side of the garden, just outside the wooden borders but inside the fence where we planted them several years ago. The strawberries will soon follow. Every year, those crazy strawberries try to invade the neighboring soil in the garden after a few weeks above ground, but each year we gently pull back the little green runners that latch quite firmly into the dirt.

In the summertime, the garden is brimming with all types of crops—kale, lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, beets, squash, eggplant, peppers, green beans, herbs like basil, parsley, oregano, mint… and more. Each year we try our hand at a few new seeds. One of the finest ways I feel connected to nature is preparing meals with ingredients that came from our garden.

There is a point every year where the yield is almost too much to keep up with—especially the kale, spinach, and lettuce. Almost daily, I take a trip down the hill to pick the greens. Carefully cutting the leaves back to the main stem keeps the plants producing all season, but it’s quite time-consuming. The bugs are wild at that time of year. At least half the time, I forget to slather on bug repellent and get completely mobbed by whatever is out there.

Often, the sun is so hot that by the time I finish cutting back the greens, the ones I started with begin to wilt. Avoiding that wilt requires several trips back into the air-conditioned house, where they will stay fresh until I have a chance to clean them. Getting back into the house is tricky business because my sandals, legs, and behind are muddy, and I need to trek up the hill in the scorching sun. The trip doesn’t stop at the hill—I still need to climb the steep deck steps. It really isn’t too far, but by the time I reach the back door, I’m often panting from the exertion.

A cool wave of air hits me when I open the door. Unlike the frigid air this morning—which felt like an unpleasant but natural shock—the air-conditioned air in the summer feels pleasant, yet completely unnatural. I have to take off my shoes so as not to drag mud into the house. I creep inside, trying not to touch anything or shake the greens too much, as this will create all kinds of dirt and mess.

After several trips to the garden to avoid wilting, it’s another several minutes—sometimes hours—of processing the greens. They need to be soaked through several rounds, then spun and bagged. There is always more than we can ever eat, so our neighbors, coworkers, and friends often become the unwilling—yet very thankful—recipients of our labor.

I take a step back from the railing overlooking the hill. The deck feels cold and frigid under my bare feet with every step I take. As long as I don’t move, my feet seem to warm the peeling wood beneath them. My next thought wanders to that peeling wood—we need to paint it again. It needs to be painted or touched up annually, despite the promises on every deck paint label that show freshly painted decks with five-year guarantees.

That’s another chore to add to the to-do list. As will be the weekly hassle of weeding, in addition to the more-than-weekly imposition of mowing the lawn, weed whacking, and cleaning up the mulch that looks awful after lawn clippings or dog digging. Not to mention the constant sweeping of the deck, walkway, and sidewalk in front of our home.

As I look around the yard, my heart starts to flutter in anguish this time, thinking about how much work summer is. Why am I looking forward to it? Winter seems nice and simple, as the upkeep of the home is only a fraction of what summer requires when you have a large lawn and garden. I rather enjoy coming home in the dark at four in the afternoon, changing into comfy clothes, and settling onto the sofa with a good book by the fire for the evening. It feels wrong at this time of year, at 6:45 pm, to not be fully dressed. While the sun might be shining, it’s way too cold to enjoy the outdoors.

At the moment, I’m cold, and I have nothing on except flimsy pajama pants and my daughter’s college sweatshirt. I make the crazy decision to walk down the steep stairs of the deck to take a look around the yard. There is the fire pit in the grass and the Adirondack chairs sitting under the deck, waiting for their time to come out for the summer. We have a swing under the deck with an orange cushion and two pillows that is great for summer reading, but also a prime spot to be bitten by mosquitoes.

I start to walk around the house up the hill and remember how steep it is. I am reminded of the flower bed on the side of the house that is a whole lot of work to keep up as well. My heart starts to pound now as I exert energy climbing the hill while my lungs take in the frigid air.

As I round the flower bed and step into my driveway, I see the crocuses that came up a few weeks ago in full bloom. They are the first of the flowers to emerge. Their little green shoots are often seen in late February. Just a quick look at them makes my heart slow down a little.

As I come up the walkway, I see more crocuses on the flower bed on the other side of the house. They too are in full bloom. And right next to them are daffodils that are about to burst forth. Their yellow petals are still closed, but any day now they will open into their full beauty.

I smile internally. I love the flowers in the summer. I love pruning them, cleaning up around them, and bringing many of them into the house. All summer, we have fresh flowers throughout the house. Every time I look at them, I am awed by their beauty. It is one of my favorite things about summer.

As is having the windows open at night. As are the fresh fruit pies I make, the salads we often eat, the fresh tomatoes… oh my.

All seasons are beautiful in their own way. When the days start to become shorter and the mornings in late August and early September grow chillier, I begin to dread the winter. I can’t conceive how it could be dark in the morning or in the evening. I can’t imagine not sitting out on the deck for meals or reading in the evenings by the light of tiki torches and the sound of crickets.

But as the days do begin to shorten, I thoroughly enjoy the colors of the trees, the browning of the flower beds and garden, and pulling out the sweaters and fuzzy boots. While there is a certain satisfaction and connection to nature from caring for the outside for several hours and then enjoying the view with a cool beverage, there is also a contentment in putting away the garden tools and lawn furniture for the winter and turning inward.

I walk back into my home through the front door and feel the unnatural warm blast of air hit me while I wipe the dirt from my feet on the doormat, closing out the frigid morning behind me.

I’m content.

Nature is beautiful, and I’m feeling completely grateful.

via Daily Prompt: Frigid

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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Lexapro 100 day journal

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Wow… 100 days. I went to see my primary care provider this afternoon for a follow-up on my anxiety and refill on my SSRI. I noted to myself that I have not journaled in a long time about my experience with Lexapro and came home to do so. I put the date I started and today’s date into Excel to see how many days it’s been – since I completely lost count; and to my utter surprise it’s 100 days exactly today. I feel like things are under control. I get anxious occasionally and I did have a panic attack last Wednesday at work. But the last time before that I had a panic attack was 5 weeks prior to then, but it was an incredibly stressful morning. As I told my provider this afternoon, I almost need to feel slightly anxious every so often because it’s my body’s trigger to slow down. If I went up any more on my dose I might not feel anxious at all and push myself too far. I’m in a good place.

And slow down I have! I am smelling the roses. I catch myself unnecessarily trying t o beat the clock for no good reason and I stop to consciously appreciate the present moment, no matter how unpleasant (except for traffic… I have NOT mastered feeling ok with the present in traffic). I am on my back deck. I can hear the trees blowing in the wind. I am not taking appreciating life for granted. I hope I always feel this way. I’m going to try to make an effort because life is better slower and in gratitude. I spent the day weeding the garden with my feet in the dirt. I thought about weeds and good and evil & cleaning/purging and how we need to do that with our minds by meditating reguarly. You can’t weed on occasion and expect weeds will not grow. You can’t clean every so often and think your home will not get dirty. As above so below – you cannot meditate every once in a while and expect to walk around with a clear head and zen outlook.

I loved the journey since I started medication. Someone told me to journal about it and I did. I was so afraid to start my medication. I kept the meds a few days before I began and read about it online obsessively. I was afraid of not feeling like myself. A girl wrote about how she had been on Lexapro for a year. She was artsy and creative and had incredible mood swings before she started the drug. She said she drew and painted so much more passionately before she started and now wondered if she should go off and be her real self again. That scared me. But the 5-10% of people or so who had good things to say, and didn’t have a nightmare of an experience said they were glad to actually feel like their old self again. That is what I wanted. I like being passionate & creative and all that jazz, but I did want to feel like myself. What would be the worse thing? It would be a nightmare and I’d go off and be in the same place I was? My biggest fear was losing myself, but actually – I found myself again. And I’m all the better for it.

March 16, 2016; 10:16pm

And here goes 

About to take my first dose of lexapro. I may be miserable the next few days and worse off. I’m officially someone diagnosed with a mental health condition and I need meds. I pray it works because I so desperately want to feel better. This may be the last of the real Esterina. I love myself. I’m sorry I lost it. I will be better. And here goes…

March 18, 2016; 5:44pm 

Lexapro – Day 2

I am a person who is in touch with themselves. Deeply. I can already feel a difference. This morning when I woke up, it was the first time I woke up and didn’t have the sense of impending doom looming over me in a long time. It was amazing! But I know it’s not working yet because after a few minutes of lying in bed I started my normal anxiety. Only this time it felt different. I was short of breath, but somehow it wasn’t causing pain in my head. It was like it was cut off from my head or something. Then I read a text from Daren that he sent last night. I could hardly see it. The words and font looked kind of different, smaller if anything and a little sharper. I went down to the kitchen and prepared a fresh juice. I went back upstairs to reply to Daren’s texts. It wasn’t until he started making rigmarole plans with different pick-ups and hockey bags and complicated collaboration that the anxiety really started. Only it didn’t even come close to a panic attack. 

Today at work I was able to focus. Focus on one thing at a time. Not as well as I’d like but I was SO SO SO productive. It was crazy! I had energy I hadn’t had in years. Is this what drugs really do? No wonder these are prescription drugs. I almost want to up my dose to the 10 I’m not supposed to start until at least Sunday, but I’ll hold off. 

Driving home felt good. Usually I’m numb and kind of miserable. I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I was happy, but I was pretty ‘unmiserable’. 

I laughed like I did when I was younger twice in the past two days. Once about an hour after I took my first pill. I immediately felt a sense of chill about 5-10 minutes later. I did have a few margaritas with Gretchen and Lucy earlier in the evening. I know I’m not supposed to drink and take this, but I didn’t want to say no to hanging with them, especially while Daren was away and I haven’t seen them in so long. And I was suffering SO much with anxiety I didn’t want to wait even another day until I started the journey. So I took it that night. I felt a little chill as I drifted off into bed. I thought back to the day and remembered a funny incident at work. Haha!!! I couldn’t stop laughing. It was like when I was a kid or teenager before I got married and had kids… when I’d laugh all the time. Then yesterday the same thing happened in a meeting. It was a construction meeting and one of the police officers was describing an area that someone requested we do construction in. He was describing the half wall they were asking for and the reason being he said was… he didn’t know the medical term – but it was to give the patients a “shot in the buttocks”. OMG, I started laughing but stopped. I was holding back – I mean this is a professional meeting & all right? I’d heard this shot in the butt story before. Then when someone else was referring to it a few minutes later and he said “to give these shots in the butt” I started laughing again. And like when I was young. I knew it was inappropriate but I was giggling uncontrollably anyway. I couldn’t stop and it was almost embarrassing. Everyone looked at me when I really busted up. With tears streaming down my face. I said “I’m so sorry I’m laughing about this like a 5 year old”. And they all started laughing too. It felt so good. It felt like me raw. What’s funny is that it is me raw. I guess that is what it feels like to have my brain more in balance. 

I NEVER really time off from work. But over the past year or two I’ve probably taken between 6-8 mental health days with some other excuse. I always felt guilty as if I was cheating the system or something. I do it so nicely too. I make sure my work is done, my meetings are covered, I often get online & work throughout the day and answer questions. But overall I felt guilty. Truth is though, I do have a mental health condition and needed those mental health days. My reactions and feelings aren’t normal. I truly am suffering. It took having my first panic attack to realize how unstable I felt. While I don’t treasure them, I do in some way for getting me to realize I really was at a breaking point and needed help. I need help. It feels good to say that. And as long as this medication keeps improving and there are little to no (and fingers crossed for no) side effects then I’m SO happy I’m taking the steps to feel mentally healthy again. I cried coming home from the doctor when the med was prescribed. I felt like a loser. Now I don’t. I read somewhere where someone wrote coming out with a mental health disorder to other people felt worse than coming out of the closet. I felt like I could sympathize. I stared at the bottle. I read the instructions for a medicine the first time ever. I read everything I could get my hands on online about Lexapro. I was scared. When I finally made the decision to start taking it I was kind of excited and not scared anymore. I’m glad I waited the time out because now it feels right. Fingers crossed it’s only on the up & up from here. I want to be me again. 

March 21, 2016; 5:35am 

Lexapro – Day 5

Tired is all I can say. I have no energy. Saturday morning I woke up in full on Fight or Flight mode, only my thoughts were rational and I didn’t try to figure out what was the matter with or try to talk to Daren about all that is wrong in our lives & the world. It was just obvious that my body was reacting to absolutely nothing and I had to let it ride out. My mind didn’t follow it. It was nice, but unsettling. I can’t believe the medication would work so quickly. Saturday late afternoon when I went to take a shower, about 2 minutes into it I was hit a giant wave of exhaustion. Crazy exhausted. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make it out of the shower safely. I did though. Daren came up and made sure I was able to get dressed. Then I went downstairs to the couch and kind of didn’t move most of the night. I got up for about 15 min to eat dinner, but had to lay back down. I slept for about 2 hours before dinner. Then again through most of the movie we watched. Sat night I know I looked at the clock before I fell into a deep sleep in bed, and it was 10:50. I woke up at 7:50, a full 9 hours later! But I was still tired. Saturday evening I switched from 5mg to 10mg. I was expecting to wake up with some wooziness and nausea, but didn’t. I was just super lethargic.

I forced myself out of bed and downstairs for some green tea. Stupidly Daren and I started our quarterly detox too. Probably a bad idea to be detoxing and starting a new medication. I started to gain some energy around noon. I made all the dinners for the week and cleaned up the kitchen & house a bit. Then I took Koji on a very mild 2 mile walk. But when I came home I was exhausted again. I went to take a shower (a very quick one because no one was home and I was afraid I’d fall asleep in there). Then I went to the couch. I couldn’t really fall asleep and I had no motivation to do anything. I had a mini panic attack. I’m not even sure why. I was incredibly depressed and crying on the couch. I was thinking about putting real clothes on today to go to work (no yoga pants) and it just made me so sad. I felt like I couldn’t deal with life. At that time I felt pangs of anxiety, but nothing fight or flight like within me. It was more like depression to be honest. No beating heart or doom & gloom thoughts. I got up to eat and right back to the couch. Until bed. I slept like a log. I had a hard time getting up for work today, but here I am.

 I feel drugged up. I really do. My motor skills are slower than usual. I’m SO tired. I can’t say enough about how little energy I have. And I’m really hungry. Don’t know if it’s the meds or the detox, but just hungry. I hope this wears away. I’m having a hard time caring about anything, especially work. I hope this balances out. Good vibes & lots of love.

March 25, 2016; 5:40am

Lexapro – Day 9

I’ve been SO depressed. I had no energy the past few days. I have been FORCING myself to walk. I drank pink wine & had chocolate last night. I had such forceful cravings. I should be getting my period so that might be it too. Plus I have heard Lex can make your anxiety and depression a little worse. I’ve felt my body in fight or flight a LOT, but my mind has not always taken me there. It has a few times. It’s been a rough few days since I’ve last written. 

Today I’m feeling great so far. I’ve only been up a for a little bit though. I got up & stretched and I put on a mask and gave myself a mani & pedi. I feel good. I feel solid. I still feel anxiousness in my head, but I just feel happy. I want to stay here (as I know everyone does). I NEED to work peace and meditation into my day everyday. It helps. I feel good. Namaste.

March 28, 2016; 12:24pm

Lexapro – Day 12

I had an absolutely terrible weekend at first. I mean terrible. I felt great on Friday. Like my old self. I was productive at work as I was the Friday before. I had a beer Friday night at the Wolfpack game and felt ok for a while. I started feeling a little depressed and by the time we got home I wanted to kill someone. I was so anxious about our ridiculous lives. None of the kids were supposed to be with us, but 3 of them suddenly were. I fell asleep right away but woke up to Kieran taking a shower at 12:15 in the morning. His mother left his belongings behind my car earlier that evening, and then Gabby ran them over while we weren’t home when she borrowed my car. She had to have the neighbors come over and help bail the crap out from under the car. Once I woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep my blood started to boil and my anxiety kicked in. I lost it. I had a panic attack. The next morning on the couch I had another. Overall I’m not really feeling better yet. Today at work I haven’t really done a thing this morning. I’m so completely unmotivated. I know that doctors sometimes prescribe Xanax or something for breakthrough panic until the SSRI starts to kick in. I’m in a weird place. I have my fingers crossed this works. Every passing day I hope I’m one day closer. I did have the energy to get up & do some yoga stretching this morning.

 I know I sound a little rambly. I can’t wait to have motivation again. I did have it on Friday. Today I’m moving in slow motion. I was better this morning. I even did my 5 minutes of meditation that I always intend to do. I did it on Friday too. I really did give me a good sense of peace and inner stillness. Just now I’m SO tired. I’m tired. I’m not doing anything useful for the world. I don’t know what to say. I want to feel better. I just want to feel better. I really do.

March 30, 2016; 5:32am

Lexapro – Day 14

One thing I have been forgetting to mention is the very realistic dreams. People seem to use the word vivid but to me they just seem real. Like it’s real life and I wake up confused about whether or not something actually happened.

One of the things that recently happened to me last Tuesday is that several of my pills went down the sink. I ordered a pill box so that wouldn’t happen. It had 4.5 stars on Amazon so I chose it. It came on Friday (I think… maybe Saturday?) and I’ve been using it ever since. I’m not completely impressed with it. I just thought it would be easier than twisting off that terrible cap every time. Then last night I dreamt of this pill box. The days of the week wouldn’t close. The pills were falling out all in my make-up bag. I thought to myself that I needed to write a bad review and in my mind I thought as a consolidation the company would be mailing me a new one. I wasn’t going to get another one, I was just going to put the pills in a plastic bag instead. Vivid dreams. Realistic really.

April 1, 2016; 5:21am

Lexapro – Day 16

Yesterday was the first day I felt good all day. I think waking up & doing yoga first thing had something to do with it. I’ve also been meditating every morning at work for 5 minutes before starting the day. I’ve been opening the the window and looking out. Hearing the sounds of West Haven waking up. Feeling the cool morning air. Even the day it was raining. It was nice. Today I am in Newington. There is no window. I will try to meditate anyway at 8:15 when morning report starts and I know no one will bother me. 

Yesterday I felt kind of normal or what I imagine other people feel as normal. I caught myself catching my breath a few times and taking deep sighs, but I didn’t try to follow my body to why I felt stressed and just kept saying to myself that I shouldn’t water the weeds (of thoughts). It helped yesterday. It doesn’t always. Hopefully it’s the lex and then hopefully I can remap my brain to do that all the time.

This morning was the first time in 2 weeks that I woke up and didn’t have stress coursing through my veins with my heart beating. I’m trying not to think too much about it because it can go any second, AND thinking about it causes more stress usually. Please God/Universe/Almighty…. I need a clear mind. Peace. Tranquility.

April 4, 2016; 5:40pm

Lexapro – Day 19

Today I feel really good. Saturday I felt overall nothing. Not depressed. Not happy. Just nothing. Unmotivated too. I kind of did almost nothing. I did change out my summer and winter clothes though. Not having the feeling of being too attached to doing anything else or the outcome helped me to just concentrate on what I was doing and do it well. Time flew by. It was kind of nice and it felt nice to look back and see the progress I made with the clothes change. Something simple and it made me feel accomplished. Then for some reason on the way down to Shannon’s wine party later that afternoon, listening to music I perked up. I perked up so much I was singing to the music. It felt nice. After that I went out with Mirta and Elizabeth. We went to J. Timothy’s. I was kind of mellow. I feel like I’m losing my mind sometimes. I feel duller somehow.

Yesterday I woke up pretty motivated. We slept in until after 9 I think. A good night’s sleep felt really nice. I didn’t do much of anything yesterday at all. I made a few foods in the morning to prep for the week. I took my time. Again not being attached to an outcome feels nice. Then I touched up all the white trim around the house. Sometime in the morning while cooking, most of us were at home but all split up doing various things around the house. I was suddenly incredibly motivated to talk to Kieran and Devin about odd blended family situation. What I’m forgetting to write is that on Friday right after I wrote in here Daren copied me on an email to his ex. She was vague about Keiran’s plans so I asked to clarify something. Well…. she went nuts and spouted back that I’m the step-parent and there is no reason I should communicate about her kids plans. I just wrote back again and said I’d like to know what is going on in my own house.

One of the main things I’m learning about myself is that a situation doesn’t bother me as it’s happening; it’s usually down the road hours or a few days later that I’m affected. I think it was because it was how I coped with domestic violence as I was growing up. At the time of an unpleasant experience I am strong and normal. Only later do I allow myself to process. So, as I was happily cooking Sunday morning, I started to process what felt like an unnecessary attack on Friday. I was in a good mood and just felt like I could talk to the kids. Daren was supposed to come home sooner than I thought with Devin so I was kind of waiting for them. But a lot of time passed and I didn’t have the opportunity when I was ready to talk it so I missed it. I really wanted to air things out though, so I thought I would write down everything I wanted to talk to them about and chat together after dinner. Then I thought the kids might get upset and misconstrue my words, so I thought I’d send an email ahead of time so there were no misinterpretations. I thought about what I might write for hours while I cooked and painted. I finally sat down and the thoughts were just pouring out of me. I imagined their mom one day reading it in case they got upset and forwarded it to her, so I was very PC.

 When I was finished, I felt spent. I sent it to Daren first for his advice. I had no idea how he would react. I asked him to read it and disappeared to take a shower. I felt a huge release and a little panicky. I think a few weeks ago before the lexapro I might have had a panic attack. But I didn’t. I did feel shaky though. Daren came upstairs after my shower to tell me that it was beautiful and that I should sent it right away. I did. Then he told the boys to read it. Kieran did, Devin had some kind of mishap with receiving it. We kind of openly talked about a few things after dinner after Gabby left the table. Then I left Daren and Kieran to talk while I took Koji out for a walk. I know I left the door open for them to talk about some stuff more openly than likely they ever have since I’ve known them at least.

 After that I was kind of numbish again. It’s nice to be numb. I thought I would be upset not feeling so hard, but it’s kind of peaceful. This morning I woke up with more energy than I’ve had in long time. I did about 15 minutes of yoga, no meditation. Had coffee. Actually listened to music again & sang! And I’ve been moderately motivated at work. Not as much as I normally am, but much more than last week. That’s how I am! Thanks for listening.

April 7, 2016; 5:56pm

Lexapro – Day 22

I’m so so so tired of not feeling like myself. I’m tired of feeling blah and uninspired. I’ve been escaping with reading. I don’t want to deal with my bullshit life. I don’t know what to do anymore.

I’m not doing well. I can’t say this medication is working. I had no control over my mind today or my emotions. What can I say?

April 22, 2016; 5:21am

Lexapro – Day 37

Let today be the start of something new. It’s earth day. We had a beautiful full moon last night & now one this morning. I’ve felt good the past few days. I want to somehow get out of working at the VA, at least full time. I know it doesn’t work for me anymore and I’m just not that interested in the politics of it anymore. Not sure what to do. Wish me luck in discovering whatever it is.

April 27, 2016; 12:49pm

Lexapro – Day 42

What inspired me to write is the walk I just took. I’m walking much faster and with much more gusto. I have been walking since 2003 at lunch nearly every day in rain, snow or shine. I have been walking with gusto for years. I never stopped walking, but I did stop walking with gusto. I still took the stairs, but never with conscious thought anymore. Walking the stairs made me pant. I’m not panting anymore 🙂 I don’t even know when that happened :-). I can’t smile enough about this.

 Everything else in my life stayed the same. It’s my body that is different and calmer. I am enjoying the little things more. Things that used to stress me out matter a bit less, but excitingly enough I’m more excited and engaged with them if that makes any sense.

 What likely stopped me from completely falling to pieces are the good habits that I had already. Like taking the stairs, walking daily. Getting up early to stretch and having a quiet cup of coffee. Eating fairly well. I had lost any and all motivation. I hated doing all those things. But the act of doing them out of habit helped me not to delve into a downward spiral. I’m proud of myself for not giving up and just going through the motions even though I wasn’t there and couldn’t care less about it. It still helped even though I couldn’t feel it at the time.

 All else is ok. I am not loving my job like I never had before. Not since the early days in the Coast Guard as a non-rate have I stared at the clock and mentally counted the hours and minutes until I would get to leave. It’s been a while. It kind of stinks. I liked being engaged more, but I feel a call to do something more. I wrote about my experience with stress in my blog esterinaanderson.com. It was cathartic. I had it posted to facebook. I’m not sure if I already journaled this or not, so I may be repeating myself – lol. Just wanted to catch up. 6 weeks. Feeling good.

May 12, 2016; 12:37pm

Lexapro – Day 57

Happy happy lunch break. It’s been a while since I’ve written about my lex experience regularly these days. I’ve been feeling better. My physical anxiety has not gotten better – only mental. I can think so much more clearly. The biggest thing I did yesterday was actually write to my acting boss & the director to ask to work part-time and if that’s not possible I understand that they will have to replace me. I basically said in a very nice way it’s part-time or I just can’t. I told them about my stress. I told them it sounds like I’m sharing something personal but I’ve shared it publicly. I haven’t heard back yet, but I do have an appointment (requested by the director himself) for today at 2pm. It has to be about my email I imagine.

The strange thing is that I’m not worried about this meeting at all. What is the worst thing that can happen? They fire me and I stay home & relax and garden, take care of Koji, read, cook dinners for the family, pick up kids who need rides. Shop for our food and not have it delivered? Clean my own house & not have a service come?  Like normal people… 

I can think about opening a yoga studio and start an hour bank in my town. I’m still fairly young, I have skills that are worthy, and I have motivation to do good for the world. If I can’t do it at my job where I’d like to, I’ll do it somewhere else. That I know for sure.

In some weird way, I’m really oddly not tied to the outcome as much as I may have once been. Is it the lexapro? The yoga?  My intentions I’m a bit better about setting? I don’t know… but I’m happy and I threw something out there that I can’t take back, and whatever happens it won’t be what I’m doing now… and that makes me SO happy. Hugs & lots of love to all beings.

June 24, 2016; 7:51pm

And as I read back through all of this and previously journaled day 100; I’m in an awesome place. I still don’t know what’s going on with my job! I’m working 3 days a week for now, but don’t know if it will be in my current position or any myriad of possibilities. Who knows? I’m ready for anything! It’s been a while since 3/16 when I journaled “here goes”. No regrets! For anyone ever wondering if it’s worth its, for me… it was.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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