I saw a psychiatrist last Thursday.

I’ve suspected for a while that I might have a chemical imbalance. I’m Mr. Anxiety. Despite years of talk therapy, despite numerous changes in my life situation, this anxiety has never completely gone away. And lately, between my prostate issues and my job, I’ve felt so despairing inside. I’ve felt like the rest of my existence is going to be pointless. For a couple of weeks last spring I talked to my therapist about seeing a psychiatrist, someone who could actually prescribe medication, but then I felt better again. This time, though, I’d just had enough of feeling like this.

So I finally saw a psychiatrist on Thursday.

I talked with him for an hour and a half, and at the end of our talk, he concluded that I mostly have anxiety, with a little bit of depression thrown in. This was not a surprise.

He’s prescribed me Wellbutrin, which I began taking on Sunday morning. He said it might make me jittery, though, because Wellbutrin is “activating.” Finding the right medication is trial and error, although I don’t quite understand why I need something “activating” if my main problem is anxiety. And I’ve been feeling more anxious than usual these last couple of days, but I don’t know whether it’s the Wellbutrin, or whether it’s situational, or whether it’s psychosomatic. Psychosomatic anxiety? Isn’t that redundant? Like, the anxiety is all in my mind? Um, duh?

The anxiety could be situational. I had a follow-up appointment yesterday morning with the urologist, who I swear to God looks and sounds just like Jerry Springer, and apparently my prostate is fine again. Which is problematic, because I’m still having symptoms. He says it could be psychosomatic. Oh, wonderful. Now what am I supposed to do.

He also reminded me to ejaculate no more than three or four times a week. (Yeah — no more than. I’d thought it was at least.) For how long, I said? Forever, he basically said. Too much is not good for the prostate. So for the rest of my life it’s not good for me to ejaculate on consecutive days? I’ve never heard anything like this before. “You’ve never talked to a urologist before,” he said. But really? Seriously? No more than three or four times a week? Are you kidding me? I have to regulate my sex life now? Even when I’m alone? I swear I’ve never heard this before. I don’t know if I buy it.

Then, this morning, I was sitting in a meeting, prepping for a hearing tomorrow, and I had no idea what was going on. And whenever I tried to focus, my mind would wander. I’d try to concentrate, and then I’d start to think about why I couldn’t concentrate, and then I’d start to think about why my mind works the way it does, all of which of course prevented me from concentrating, which started the cycle over again. But this is all normal for me. And in my two years in this job I’ve never known what the hell was going on. Anyway, I was sitting in this room and I was feeling urinary pressure and I was feeling completely clueless and useless and anxious and I just needed to get the hell out of there.

I was talking to the urologist yesterday morning about the other issues going on in my life, my worries about turning 30 and whatnot, and he told me that he’d recently read that most people in their 80s found that their 70s had been their best decade — because they’ve accomplished what they want, and now they can just relax. Well, if I have to deal with all of this every day for the next four decades of my life, I’m never going to make it to 70.

I feel like a total basket case right now.

But I need to write these words anyway, because they are my truth.