An Open Letter To My Anxiety

Dear Anxiety,

Why do you control my life? At an early age I did not know you as anxiety. You were just my worries and dislike for change. I wanted to know why you made me feel so icky inside. Maybe I was just sensitive.

What do you want from me? In high school I caught you red-handed. I finally had pinpointed who you were, and what you were doing to me. During my first psychology class my teacher listed everything that you are. He listed the feelings of uneasiness, panic attacks, trembling, feeling powerless, and so many more plaguing symptoms.

Why me? You followed me through high school, but I did not take you seriously until that day in English where you gave me my first panic attack. I could not focus on breathing or anything but this unending dark cloud above my head. I excused myself from class.

Should I get help? I decided to tell my parents about you. It took a lot for me to face my parents. I told them I needed to go to a counselor. At first I do not think they understood, but they agreed to help me get rid of you.

What can a counselor do? My first appointment with my psychologist was the scariest thing I had ever done. I slowly got used to talking to someone, telling her what was eating at me inside, and telling her the most minuscule worries in my life. Slowly I got better. I could finally control you inside of me.

What am I going to do? After high school I thought I was fine to stop seeing my counselor, but I yet again was awakened to your power over me. I broke down. I never thought I would get through my freshman year of college, but I did. I was able to find a new counselor and have never stopped going since.

What now? Now you and I work together. I manage life with you much better. I have techniques to keep you from giving me panic attacks and restricting me from living a normal life. I know you don’t define me now. Now you don't control my life, I control you.

Yours truly,

Kaylee