The end of my junior year of high school was when I first realized I developed anxiety. At the time, the butterflies that were always in my stomach traveled to my heart, and my hands were shaking. Along with this, I always had paranoid racing thoughts, so much so I felt lightheaded 24/7. There was a constant battle in my head of struggling with reality and my distortions.
A few months after my anxiety developed and took over my thought process, came the depression (as I’ll learn later usually happens). I was always sad, always thought pessimistically. I felt even more alone, and this depression completely took over me my senior year. All my friends were applying to colleges and getting accepted, but all I could manage to do was not cry in class. Everything was changing and I didn’t like it. We were all growing up and that terrified me.
Dealing with anxiety and depression together was hell, to be quite honest. Not wanting to get out of bed because I didn’t think I could handle seeing everyone be happy when all I wanted to do was cry, but not wanting to miss school because then I wouldn’t have perfect attendance. The heaviness and the inner commentary about how everyone was smarter, less awkward, prettier, just better than me, was constant. As senior year progressed, the depression grew stronger and the suicidal thoughts came to surface. I’d drive home at night from a friend’s house and imagine the trajectory I’d have to drive to immediately die on impact if I hit the telephone pole. Every pole I passed. Every few seconds.
Around April of senior year, I began cutting myself. This eventually took over my life. Every few months I’d pick a date that I would plan to commit suicide. I’d write wills in my journal and plan everything after I was gone “to the T”. And on that date, when I knew I didn’t have “the balls” to do anything (as I taunted myself), I’d fall even further down the rabbit hole. I’d be upset because I made a plan, a promise to myself, and I didn’t stick to it-which made me even more of a failure than I already felt like I was.
After going into the hospital for a week, and then attending my mandatory outpatient program, I gradually learned how sick I had become and I started to try to heal myself. I opened up to my therapist at the time. She gave me exercises to try when I got anxious and things to remind myself when I got depressed. I opened up more at home. I remember thinking less and less of suicide and cutting, until eventually it became rare that I did think about it. August 2016 will be two years free of cutting, and I am very proud of that milestone.
As for my thoughts now, I can think much more clearly. I have talked myself out of anxiety attacks (which took months of practice and effort), and I have shaken off depressive episodes. Even still, I do get anxiety and have “bad depression days” as I call them- but I’m in a better mindset now. I know how to handle these things when they do happen. I have a boyfriend who is my best friend and my #1 fan. I’m starting a university in the fall and I’m moving in with him at the end of the summer. I’m graduating my community college next month. I’m living-which at one point I didn’t think I’d do, and at one point I didn’t want to.
The point of me sharing my experience with anxiety and depression is to show you all that it’s not a choice. Depression and anxiety creep into your head and take over, and it takes lots of time until you realize your negative thoughts aren’t real. Mental illness is not a choice, just like cancer or diabetes is not a choice. And for those of you who feel any of the things I’ve described, I want to shake your hand. I want to applaud you for still being here and for reading my article, because I’ve already seen two people fall victim to the bad thoughts, and I’m proud of you for fighting. As for getting help, start small. The two mottos I’ve told myself when I was going through everything were: “Every accomplishment is still an accomplishment, no matter how small you may think it is” and “Think of the success story”. Think of reaching the finish line and being able to look back at all you’ve overcome. Take my word for it, as someone who’s looking back now - it’s a great feeling to be able to say “I made it”.
