Growing up struggling with anxiety and depression is one of the things in my life that has made me the person that I am today. However, growing up with these things, I never shared what I was going through.
Being 8 years old and suffering through debilitating panic attacks in school is something that most people would find unheard of. At the time I didn't know the name of what I was suffering from, but I did know that most of the people that I knew did not have the same issue. It got me stared at, made fun of, and my teachers thought that when I complained about a stomach ache that I was just a hypochondriac. In reality, I was getting stomach aches from my anxiety and I really needed a few minutes to calm myself down. The fact that my teachers didn't understand made things much more difficult. I was really smart, so I knew more things about the world than my classmates. That also fed into the anxiety. All around, being an 8 year old that could not control most of her life made me extremely anxious.
The years following that, my "invisible illness" remained invisible both to me and to everyone else. Until I was 14 years old. When I was 14, I sustained a concussion. A bad enough concussion that it brought my anxiety back to light, but in a whole new level. For the entire next 8 months or so, I struggled with depression and constant, persistent panic attacks. I would have to leave class every period to sit through my panic attack and then return to class. I never let anyone see what I was really up to, and I didn't let anyone see that I was anything less than okay. The worst part about it for me was that my teachers thought that I was just skipping class for the sake of skipping class, but in reality I just couldn't stay in class to have a panic attack. I would go home to my mom and talk to her about it, but nothing in the way of homework ever got done. My grades dropped. Even though I saw someone, I was seriously struggling. And no one knew. The invisible illness.
Growing up with the invisible illness was extremely difficult for me, because even though I had a great support system, it was difficult to get through the things that I did. I felt alone even though I wasn't, and I felt lost in myself. Because it wasn't a physical illness, no one could see it unless I told them, and I intentionally chose not to. So no one knew. That's just a small part of my story, and I know lot's of people who have stories similar than mine, and stories much much worse than mine. The invisible illness is painful and difficult, and if you see it in someone you know, reach out. That might be just what they need.
