Nothing about anxiety is glamorous, and nothing about what I'm going to say is, either.

Three years ago, I was diagnosed with an eating disorder. Three years ago, I had no idea that I had struggled with anxiety and depression until my therapist drawled it to my attention.

I remember my first session with her. I could barely form the words to tell her what was going on inside my twisted mind. Somehow, she knew exactly what I was trying to say with tears streaming down my face, unable to make eye contact as I stared down at my red chapped knuckles.

From that day on, she did not care about what I ate, and there was never a session that was focused on food. She was not my dietitian and made that very clear. I like to describe her as a Drill Sergeant; she was so hard on me. But I couldn't be more thankful for that.

She used Cognitive Behavioral Therapy to treat me. She came to the conclusion that the reasoning behind my eating disorder was anxiety and depression. Since then, I realized that what I was going through was much more than obsessing over food intake and calories burned.

It has been three years, and I still struggle with anxiety but in a much healthier way.

I used to take out my worries and feelings of not being enough and self-hatred on myself. Every day I woke up, looked in the mirror, and saw every single part of my body as a flaw.

Getting an A on a test wasn't good enough. I constantly worried if I had offended someone, and I wanted to please everyone.

I promise you the only person you upset by trying to make everyone happy, is yourself.

I spent much of my first semester of college locked in my dorm room, completely isolated from everyone. I was miserable. I can't even begin to count the days I made up excuses not to go out.

It's funny how I absolutely hated myself, but I was the only person I ever wanted to be with. I wasn't just living with me; it was me and "ED". That is what most therapists refer to your Eating Disorder (ED) because that nasty, evil, manipulative voice is not yours.

It was extremely hard for me to distinguish between my voice and his. Some days it is still so difficult. He tells me to skip breakfast, miss out on dinners with friends, and to hide under clothes.

He makes me feel small, but I learned that my voice is much more powerful than any of his words.

My anxiety has a way of controlling every aspect of my life. It ranges from not wanting to leave my bed, to an anxiety attack over food or too much school work. I am always putting everyone before myself and way too much on my plate that I become so stressed out.

I never want to tell anyone no. I try so hard to accommodate everyone, that I end up hurting myself.

Anyone who suffers from anxiety can tell you that it is a horrible feeling. Your hands shake, your stomach turns inside out, and your mind is going a million miles a minute. You lose a sense of who you really are in order to let out the overwhelming feelings.

Everyone has a different way to cope, but they'll probably never admit to it. Anxiety and depression shouldn't be something to be ashamed of, but yet we are. I know I was, which is why it was so difficult for me to admit my struggles to my parents, family and closest friends, and now to you.

It is still hard for me to be open and honest while writing this. Am I scared someone will read this and think of me differently? Of course. But I also know that there is one person out there who can relate 110%, and that makes being vulnerable worth it.

Managing anxiety is not easy. It's waking up and choosing to put one foot in front of the other even though you just want to sleep. It's putting on an outfit you feel uncomfortable in but rocking it anyway.

It's choosing to stand up for yourself and telling someone how you really feel, despite what the outcome may be. I didn't learn any of this overnight; it was and still is because of hours and hours in therapy and practicing the techniques I was given.

I know that things are only as bad as I make them. I know there are very few things I have control over, but I can control how I respond to what happens to me. I take a deep breath, sometimes five, and think of how I can overcome the feelings, instead of letting them take over me.

When taking a deep breath doesn't work, I'll listen to my favorite songs or make a phone call to a close friend or my parents. If worse comes to worst, I'll cry.

Don't ever let someone tell you that crying solves nothing because I can promise you sometimes it is the only thing that will make you feel better... and maybe some ice cream.

I don't want you to struggle in silence, and I definitely don't want you to struggle alone. So tell someone. Tell your mom or dad or your sibling. If you don't want anyone to know, please call a therapist.

Therapy has changed my life in more ways than I can even begin to express. Your feelings are never something to be ashamed or embarrassed about.

Know that you are allowed to be anxious, scared, lonely, or frustrated. Those are normal human emotions. But the second you stop expressing them and start suppressing them is when it becomes a serious problem.

Let's break the silence and end the stigma associated with mental illnesses; there are lives on the line.