The Relationship Between Intelligence and Anxiety
I can honestly say anxiety ruined my life.  Yea, I had some fun here, and there, but anxiety really held me back.<p>I all stemmed from one huge panic attack on Christmas Eve.  I remember coming home from my father&#x27;s house.  Normal Irish blue collar Christmas.  We were all 
drinking.   Not drunk--Irish don&#x27;t get drunk--we can handle the booze--with the exception of our livers.  We we just having a good time.  I did have a cup of coffee before I drove home.<p>I got home, and  went to the bathroom--looked into the mirror.  I was thinking about the enevilibility of death.  I thought about Christmas card my dad gave me.  &quot;Happy Christmas!  Doctor, PhD. Masters, BS, etc.&quot;  My father didn&#x27;t approve of my education.  He didn&#x27;t feel anyone who was in  school added to society.  What&#x27;s ironic is I kinda agreed with him, and validated his views--just to please the man.  I use to tell him--all this school--all this money, and I look back and maybe I had eight amazing classes in college.  (I don&#x27;t know why my father didn&#x27;t want me to go to school, he didn&#x27;t pay a dime.  I sometimes thing he wanted me to be just as happy, and fulfilled as he was in life, but no more?<p>I thought about a student who died of a cerebral hemorrhage. I thought about the fragility of the human anatomy system.  I thought &quot;What makes me different than the guy who popped a vessel riding his bike, with his cute wife?&quot; (Edipal issues too?)<p>I picked at a pimple?  I noticed my hair did look poofy.  My sister was big on hair conditioners.<p>It was around 12:30 p.m.--and click.  I thought I heard an artery in my head explode.<p>The room started to change dimensions.  The room became larger--then smaller.  The wall paper started to move slightly.  My body went hay wire.  I was a nervous wreck.  An fews hour of hell went by, and I somehow got to sleep.<p>The next morning I woke up, and at least I was still on this earth.  I walked down the hallway, and the nervous started up.<p>The nervousness went on for years, and years.  I got to a point where I could leave the house, or deal with humans, without two 187ml splits of wine.<p>I did a year&#x27;s worth of therapy.  I found a therapist out of the Yellow Pages.  I paid for the therapy with the rest of my student loans, and some nefarious activities.<p>The therapy did nothing other than squash the thought, &quot;Maybe I should have seen an Therapist?&quot;  The therapy actually did some damage--I believe, but you should probally find out for yourselfs?  (Oh, yea most doctors won&#x27;t give you any drug without you wasting time with a therapist.  That is if your not connected, or come from a wealthy family. It&#x27;s a hellish system.)<p>I finally found a Psychiatrist whom would give me more that a weeks worth of Valium.  He was my fifth Psychiatrist.  He gave me Klonopin.  It really helped, but I&#x27;m still on it 20 years later.  I believe it&#x27;s a good drug though.  It has a long half life, and is not expensive anymore.<p>While the drug helped--it only helped a bit.<p>I still needed to drink in order to feel straight.<p>Over the years I fried all the Hetro&#x2F;tri-cyclic drugs; like Prozac, and Paxil, elevil, etc. and at least ten others.<p>None of them worked in the slightest!  They were all a waste of money, and time for myself.  I cried when I read that study on the history of Proxac, and what Eli-Lilly did to deceive. Literally cried!<p>I should probally back up a bit.  Right before the major panic attack,   I was in a graduate school.
I had problems with the school, and some students. I didn&#x27;t feel they were being honest with themself&#x27;s, or the science we were learning.  The school got their money, the students would all have good paying jobs in a few years.  It bothered  me that no one was looking for the truth, or efficacy of what they were learning.  I learned then, and it still hold true; When it comes to fininancial outlay,  financial  future--students and teachers go into denial.  They stop looking for the Truth.  It&#x27;s nothing new, it&#x27;s called denial.  I didn&#x27;t have that denial at the time.  I was too focused on fining the truth, and accepting its consequences.  My personal life was not great, but I was still seeing people.  I wasen&#x27;t happy, but who&#x27;s happy in their 20&#x27;s?  I did have few warning signs of potential problems ahead.  I felt I might have a brain tumor. (I had this weird head pain, since I left high school. Looking back, it was all psychosomatic.) I further felt like I could prevent a serious disease by being extremely healthy.  I once got my total cholesterol down 120.<p>Back to hell, while the drug helped--it only helped a bit.<p>I still needed to drink in order to feel straight.<p>I don&#x27;t have anything to say about anxiety.  I know I have never met one other person who had my exact symptomology.  I&#x27;ve met some who were worse, and some who just had one panic attack.  When they do these studies; I wish they would find people who really have these afflictions--I know it&#x27;s hard, and not financially feasible.<p>Anxiety, in some people, can ruin lives.  I am close to being homeless because of it.  No--I&#x27;m not bad enough for disability.  That&#x27;s the rub.  In some situations I&#x27;m the best guy in the room.  Other days, I can&#x27;t walk into the room.  Mental illness is still hidden malady.  How is some politician suspose to understand what these malidities feel like when even health professionals really don&#x27;t seem to get it?<p>If you are suffering from anxiety, try to only drink to curb anxiety attacks.  Two&#x2F;three drinks will usually stop an anxiety attack.<p>Don&#x27;t become an alcoholic.  Save that liver for rough patches ahead. You won&#x27;t be able to drink like your buddies.  They don&#x27;t need to drink to feel sane.   The anxiety symptoms will lessen with age.  You life might be a shambles, but the feelings just lesson.  Hang in there.  I sometimes feel life is just not worth living, but something always brings me around.  Not necessarily something--just brain chemistry seems to come into start playing--nice, nice? Who knows--sometimes I think they are focusing on the wrong organ.  Maybe the adrenal glands?  Who knows?<p>The only benefit I can see of my psychological faults is I truly care about anyone who&#x27;s in pain.  Before the breakdown, I didn&#x27;t truely understand why certain people lived the way they do.  I didn&#x27;t understand why he wasn&#x27;t working. Why isn&#x27;t he making money.  Making money is pretty easy for guys like me?  What&#x27;s wrong with them?  Or they lazy?  Do that have delusions of grandure?<p>I now don&#x27;t judge people like I use too.  To be honest I was never that critical of people.  I&#x27;m just more understanding now.  That whole, &quot;Walk a mile in a man&#x27;s shoes.&quot; I truly think about that, if I about to cast judgment.<p>Good luck!  Keep an eye out for that friend&#x2F;family member who&#x27;s in hell.  Try to be supportive?<p>Merry Christmas!