If you want to know, I will tell you about my anxiety. I will tell you how hard some days are. How much I hate the “anxiety” questionnaires I have to take every 6 months. How many days this week have you… I am not ashamed. In a world that expects perfection, I am not ashamed of the fact that this is something I struggle with. It is not who I am, it is simply a part of who I am. What makes me angry is the idea many people have that mental illness can be defined with one single list of symptoms: sadness, tired, anxious, etc. Mental illness is something that is experienced so differently for each person. To make overarching comments would be incorrect.
“In 2010, there were an estimated 45.9 million adults (age 18 or older) in the US with a mental illness.”
…and hardly any of them were experienced in the same way. My anxieties do not always match those of my peers or anyone for that matter. My fears, thoughts, and struggles cannot be mimicked or traced through every person who has been diagnosed with a mental illness. My anxieties are not always rational. I can’t speak in front of classrooms without my stomach in knots. I always find myself texting my mom every 30 seconds, “I’m so scared,” because getting through that presentation, even at 21 years old is impossible without her reassuring, “take a deep breath, you will do great.”
I am scared of losing people. Frequently irrational, always terrifying. Losing the people we are closest to is never easy, but the fact that I lie awake at night thinking in my mind how awful it would be to lose those I love, it’s exhausting. Whether that be through death, or forgetting to keep in touch, I find myself struggling to invite anyone into my life. I am sure that people have misinterpreted my inability to return texts, my awkward presence at parties where I know few people or the plans that I have broken. The moment I get invited to a party, or asked to do something, anything my mind immediately searches for reasons to get out of it. I have no control over this, nor do I understand why, it is irrational and frustrating, but it’s what I battle against with my anxieties. If it is not losing people, or being in front of people, it is meeting new people. Small talk is my enemy. Only so many questions can be asked to new acquaintances, and of course the horror, meeting those who do not ask questions in return…
Mental illness is hard to understand unless you have it, but even then, it isn't any easier. I don't need someone to tell me not to be scared, or to tell me that I will do just fine, that my life will turn out perfectly- these things do not comfort me. Just sit next to me and listen, I promise, it’s all I need.
