This summer, I was participating in an 8-week summer program at a university halfway across the country. I was excited; I would be expanding my skills, and I'd be on my own again for 2 months. For the first few weeks, it was a thrill. I was learning and making many new friends and memories.

Then, around the third week of classes, it started. The jitters, the tension, the increased heart rate. I attributed it to the high pressure of the class. After all, I was going to be learning a whole year's worth of information within the time frame of two months. I didn't think anything of it at first, as the feelings would go away once I was removed from a stressful situation. This would prove to be a mistake, but I kept telling myself that I'd be fine. It would go away; this happens to people all the time.

At the end of the first month, I'd made it halfway through the program. I had the weekend to have my break, catch up on rest, and the like. All the problems from the previous week seem to fade away as I walked out of the classroom after my final. I hoped that whatever had happened, was finally over. I looked forward to the second half.

Unfortunately, this feeling wouldn't last. The next night, I was preparing to jump right back in for the second half. That's when the jitters and tension set back in. It got so bad that I was physically shaking. Still, I ignored it. I cut the studying session short and tried to sleep, hoping I'd feel better by morning. However, that didn't happen. By mid-morning, I asked to be excused to go see someone at Health Services. After different tests with a few different people, it was determined that I'd suffered an anxiety attack. I was put on medicine for 24 hours and was told to take it easy. I felt physically better, and a certain emotional toll had been lifted.

The next day started off relatively normal. I went to class as I had done for the past month. But in the afternoon, I started experiencing a new type of pain. It wasn't anything physical; there was no tension or an increased heart rate. No. This pain was pure emotion. As I sat over my desk trying to finish my homework, I finally broke. I called my parents, desperate for their help, sobbing that I wanted out. They agreed that no class was worth this type of sacrifice. They were going to come and get me, and the next day, I met with the program advisors and withdrew.

It was an unfortunate outcome, and it honestly took a lot for me to reach that point. But, I felt that if I kept going, the situation would have only gotten worse. As I stated above, no class or program is worth sacrificing my mental health. As I spent the next day packing my belongings in my small dorm room, I knew this would be the best choice in the long run. I said goodbye to my suitemate and friends, as well as classmates and teachers. They were sorry to see me go but respected my decision. I learned plenty in my experience with this program, but the most valuable lesson couldn't be found in any textbook. It is the lesson that your physical and mental health must always come first, even if it means disappointing a few people.

In the week following my decision to withdraw, I've been able to start healing. I feel better, and I know I made the right call when I came home. If anyone reading this is going through a similar experience, I encourage you to talk to someone. If you determine that you are experiencing negative health effects, do something.

Don't wait until it's too late, because nothing is worth risking your health and safety.