A year ago, almost to the day, I broke down crying in my kitchen over a pack of deli turkey. I was making my lunch for work on a Saturday afternoon after a long week of full-time school and internship.
I was trying to keep up with my summer job on the weekends to make some extra spending money. Earlier last summer, I had stopped taking my medication for obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) and anxiety.
I thought I didn’t need it anymore, so under the guidance of my doctor and my therapist, I weaned off of it. I was unmedicated, anxious, stressed and reaching a breaking point.
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