My therapist was an NP who worked in a practice run by an awful man. Three weeks ago, upon our session, I was called by the secretary not to come in. After asking "why?" I was informed they cut taking medicaid. Of course, the blow was horrid. She was the first therapist I've had that actually did their jobs, managed my meds with me rather than not taking my word into consideration. She understood grief, and also specialized in MDD and anxiety disorders.

I haven't had therapy in over a month.
My meds ran out the day before therapy, as that is where I was given refills.

My GP will not give me my anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medication. She is against handing out psychiatric medication. Even though I have been on the same anti-depressant for over a year, with positive results.

I cannot find a psychiatrist in my area. I am running out of options. And my brain is paying for it.

In the past week, I haven't gotten out of bed. I haven't left the apartment. Showering became a challenge. I spent most days in horrid panic attacks, dealing with terrible thoughts, not sleeping, not eating. I am the living personification of "failure" at the moment. I am this horrid physical embodiment of everything evil and horrid. And I can't escape it.

My friend got me weed to help with anxiety. I haven't smoked in ages. And when I did, I just zoned out and felt too far out of myself. I have tried calming teas, meditation, my partner has given me massages that have ended in my own tears.

I was doing so, so well. I was improving so much. And now I am back where I started. Actually; I am farther back then where I started.

I have no idea what to do.