In a world filled with essential oils, holistic vitamin supplements, WebMD, and social media, many people feel like they know better than medical professionals. A lot of us are self-diagnosing ourselves and trying to cure our self-diagnosed diseases and disorders. We read a book, hear a story, see a snippet on the news, or get too far into our Google searches, and we decide we've got it all.

Sometimes, we're correct. After all, we know ourselves better than anyone else, right? Well, not always. Sometimes we jump the gun and we scare ourselves. I once convinced myself I probably had cervical or uterine cancer after two or three (out of a dozen) symptoms matched up just right. But there ARE times when we're right, and sometimes it's the medical professionals who are wrong. Many doctors refuse to give their patients a diagnosis or refuse to prescribe the proper medications, while other doctors will do it all happily.

I have struggled a lot with my own mental health, and it has only spiraled downwards the past few years. I've seen a dozen different doctors and specialists in this last year alone. Dietitian, epidemiologist, gynecologist, physician, therapist, chiropractor... Half of them said they wouldn't help me, while the other half did as much as they could... when I could schedule an appointment... one to seven months later. There was only one thing that was consistent between the doctors: they all said that I was depressed. And often times with depression, comes anxiety. Not in all cases, but in my case, they are a package deal.

Shortly before the diagnosis, I had become more awkward and uncomfortable in social situations. I stopped identifying with a specific friend group after mine kicked me to the curb. Things didn't feel okay. In large crowds, I started to feel claustrophobic. I stopped being interested in the outside world. Social situations were stressing me out and I was having panic attacks almost daily, simply because I had to leave the house.

But all of this was in secret. Never in my life had I been the quiet kid. Never had I been afraid to engage with others. Never had I avoided social situations like the plague. I was everybody's friend. I could strike up a conversation with the football player, the academic ace, or the kid who played Yu-Gi-Oh! on the bus. That was just who I was.

That person stopped existing when I lost my friends. I started to feel ashamed of myself. I felt like I couldn't ever be good enough to be someone's friend. I wasn't good enough to be anything but a failure. (I still feel that way most days.) My head began to be filled with paranoia. Constantly feeling like people were looking at me. They were judging me. They were talking about me behind my back. Nobody could be trusted, because everybody was my enemy.

All of these paranoid thoughts made me not want to interact with people. Why should I subject myself to humiliation and embarrassment? No, it was best to stay home. If I kept to myself, I couldn't get hurt. Nobody could talk about me if I'm not there. Just fall off the radar, and my feelings could be spared. It will work. I just needed to (like Harry Potter), "be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I don't exist."

Unfortunately, I couldn't stay home all day every day. I needed to go to school and to work. When people look at me, they're not thinking "social anxiety." They're thinking I'm loud, obnoxious, opinionated, and I just can't shut up. Which is all true. I raise my hand a lot. I am not afraid to make an impression... I'm just another person. Yet, I shut down when I get offended or upset in the slightest. I can no longer attend massive concerts with tight, packed seats. I look down at the ground when I walk because then I won't have to look anyone in the eye and engage in conversation. Some social situations don't trigger me at all, while others make me break down into tears and a panic attack.

If my anxiety is so situational, then it's got to be fake, right? A big joke. A way to get attention. I'm just faking it all because I want the spotlight. It's all for fun.

I can't tell you what exactly will trigger my anxiety. I just know that anxiety can take over my body completely sometimes. Maybe someone yells at me. Maybe someone continuously asks me what toppings I want on my pizza. Maybe someone suggests being workout buddies. Maybe I don't understand a project. Maybe I try on new clothes. Maybe I think about how much people will judge me if I get dessert, or if I eat anything at all.

Concordia recently had their annual Christmas Concert. Many of my friends were performing in it. They all wanted me to go. They told me that it would be amazing and I needed to experience it since I never had before. This concert is only once a year. This concert is being televised. This concert is attended by thousands of people.

I told them I wasn't going. I wanted to wait so that I could attend the concert with my partner. That was partially true. But I knew I couldn't go when I heard the words "attended by thousands."

So... Anxiety is a real thing. It's a thing I deal with every single day. Yeah, I can still function in society. I can attend classes. I can go to work and smile at my customers. I can go to the movies or the mall. I can eat in the dining center on campus. I can do a whole lot of things without having someone hold my hand. Now that doesn't mean my anxiety just goes away; it's just being controlled at that moment. It's not fake. It's not a show. It's not an attention-grabber. It's a real thing.