When I was 13, I realized that the way I handled stress was very different than everyone around me. I would often pull out my hair, bite my nails or go home and cry. It seemed like nothing I did could help and I often worried about situations that were impossible. At one point in 7th grade, I convinced myself that I was going to be kidnapped. Although I knew this was an irrational fear, I panicked every time someone tapped me on the shoulder or grabbed me from behind. I was shortly thereafter diagnosed with an Anxiety Disorder. It is something I have always known I had, but didn't have the language for until I was 13. As I have gotten older, however, I have realized how romanticized Anxiety really is. Anxiety is not cute. It's hard and it's grueling. You feel like you're crazy and everyone tells you to calm down because worrying solves nothing. But, Anxiety isn't a quirk. It's a reality for 40 million Americans on a daily basis. Anxiety is the most common Mental Illness and it is grueling.

My first boyfriend was kind. He would always hold me when I had a panic attack and was supportive when I would scream and cry over how much I was stressed out. But, he would always remark on how "cute" I was when I was having a panic attack. As if my body convulsing in real panic and pain is somehow enjoyable. He didn't mean it in a derogatory way. In fact, I think he meant it as a compliment or a reassurance but the fact of the matter is Anxiety is not cute. This was the first instance of romanticization.

The next year, I went to my professor to explain why sometimes I need to leave class early. I told him that at times my brain becomes so overwhelmed with information and stressors that I need to step out and collect myself. He rolled his eyes and responded “that’s probably the most convenient excuse I have ever heard. Go take your made up disability elsewhere.”

Then last summer I went on another date with a different guy. He held my hand and I sheepishly apologized for how rough my fingernails were. I stated that I had been really stressed out recently and I bite my nails when I become overwhelmed. He quickly responded, “I bet you look so adorable when you worry.” I didn't ever want to see him again after that. It really aggravated me and I could never really figure out why.

Anxiety is atrocious. It is a huge animal inside of me that wants me to succumb to its power and allow it to consume me. I try my hardest to triumph over it, but it’s powerful. I may bite my nails, pull out my hair, or even hurt myself. I am in real pain. It's not visible but it is very much real. I never understood why it bothered me so much that he called it "cute". But, I know that the older I get, the more this is a trend in the way that people see mental illness.

People see mental illness as a quirk. They make OCD jokes left and right and state "I'm just really depressed about it" when they really mean they're sad or disappointed. Mental Illness isn't fluff. It's not a "personality trait" or simply who someone is. Mental illness is pain. It’s not all beautiful tears and adorable worried eyebrows. Mental Illness is waking up at 2 in the morning screaming from a bad dream on a nightly basis at 21 years old. Mental Illness is not being able to get out of bed for weeks because your body hurts and you see no reason to move. Mental Illness is assuming your boyfriend is ignoring you because he takes an hour to respond to your question even though you know he's busy and hasn’t had a chance. Mental Illness is biting your nails down to the quick and damaging your fingers because you can't function any other way. Mental illness is having to turn the lights on and off 3 times just to feel at peace. The list goes on and on, but Mental illnesses are extremely debilitating. Most importantly, Mental Illnesses are not cute.