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Rebecca looked out the window instead of looking at me.
« Different medications. Too many. The doctors are still trying to sort everything out. »
Over the next hour, Rebecca began to confide in me about aspects of her life I had been completely unaware of during our marriage. At first, she spoke cautiously, as if each sentence had to be drawn from the very depths of her being. Then the words flowed more quickly, as if they had remained buried for years.
She told me about anxiety that started at university and worsened over time. She described her panic attacks at work, her sleepless nights, and the mornings when she felt exhausted before the day even began. She recounted how, after seeking help, she gradually became overly dependent on medication, her fear overriding her reason.
« At first, it helped me, » she said. « Then the fear kept coming back, and I was constantly trying to calm it down. When one solution stopped working, I looked for another. »