I was 16-years-old when I had my first anxiety attack. It was surreal. I was in a bad situation and all I wanted was to leave. My mind knew that. My emotions knew that. And all at once, my body released the adrenaline to get me out. I remember the experience all too vividly. I have replayed the instance over and over in my head. At first, I could not remember much. But as time chased on, my mind panned out to reveal the scenery. After 3 years, I can tell the story of how my mental health was shattered that cold night pretty well. I'll begin by telling you what happened from my perspective.

I was scared. I was nervous. All of sudden, I looked into the distance and started to yell and breath heavily. My hands became shaky and my heart rate increased ten-fold. I wanted out. I wanted to go home. That's when it happened. I felt almost as if I was two people; the one experiencing the attack and the one trying to release me. It was almost as if I was watching myself experience this extreme fit of fear and this little voice that was my own was telling me to get a grip while the other half of me was dissolving into the fit of fear and impending doom.

I kept repeating, "Home, home, home." over and over and over again until it became a monotonous chant. At one point I attempted to flee the moving car to rid myself of this terror. I remember finally getting home and after I had slightly calmed myself down, telling my mother that I was alright and nothing was wrong. I sat in my bed that night feeling emotionally and physically drained.I felt broken, cracked. I felt unstable.

I felt as though I was no longer myself.

After the incident, I was okay for a few months. Little fits of anxiety came and went for two years. My parents noticed I was struggling and offered to help. But for the most part, I was okay. I had my anxiety under control as long as I did not mess with it. As long as I did not acknowledge the monster, it would keep its distance.

But it still lurked. It was only stalking me like a predator hunts its prey. Waiting for a weak moment--for vulnerability.

This vulnerability came just this year. I had been dumped by my significant other of one year. It was a relationship that I put all of myself into. I trusted him and when he left me, I was left in this state of distrust and I was heartbroken. I had my grieving period, then I was better than before. I learned a lot about myself and who I was in the midst of the pain.

Then I met him. The man that I knew was perfect for me. He was everything I had ever hoped for in a man. We began dating in February of 2015. We were so helplessly smitten with each other and life was great. I met new friends. I became more involved at school. I was perfectly happy.

And perfectly vulnerable.

That's when it finally attacked. In March of 2015, I woke up one morning with the most intense anxiety I had ever felt in my life. I shook it off and figured I was nervous about class or an assignment. The next day, I woke up to the same thing. The cycle repeated for a month until I took action against the anxiety. I sat down with my mom and worked out why I was anxious. We narrowed it down to trust issues and how I possibly was nervous about being in a new relationship because of how my last one ended. My boyfriend was also very supportive and gave me techniques on how to control my anxious thoughts.

A month passed and I was fine. The anxiety dissolved into a fit every once and awhile and would only come up whenever my boyfriend would go back home or if I had a lot going on for classes. Little did I know that my anxiety would take a jump for the worst in a few weeks.

Summer vacation arrived and I was nervous about mine and my boyfriend's first summer break away from each other. I was anxious because my last relationship was long distance and did not work out. I had a mixture of trust anxiety, relationship anxiety, and separation anxiety. My anxious mind basically told me that it would not work out because of past failures.

In fact, my anxious mind told me a lot that summer. It gave me the idea that my boyfriend did not want to be with me. It gave me the thought that our relationship would fail. It told me that I don't deserve the love and support my boyfriend gave me. It told me I was worthless and no one should love me. Not my parents, not my siblings. No one. I told me I would always feel this fear. It lied to me over and over again until I would finally break down and give into the anxiety.

I had over thirteen major anxiety attacks that summer alone. They were not small. They were not easy to brush off. They were full-blown, nervous breakdowns that normally ended with my nails dug into my hands and my body on the floor. I felt like I was dying.

I felt like I wanted to die.

There were days when I sat in front of the window in my room begging God for release. Release of the anxiety, fear, and sometimes, my life. Every morning, I woke up in panic mode. Every morning I wondered if I would have to deal with this any longer or if I would be better off alone or gone from this earth. I never attempted taking my life, but the thought would grace my mind ever so quickly during panic attacks.

My anxiety made me want to hide from the outside world. It made me snap at my loved ones and shut them out. My mental health began to control my physical health. I never wanted to go out. I stopped being physically active. I began to spend money on frivolous things to keep my mind busy. I would waste paycheck after paycheck on things to make me "happy."

I began to lash out on my boyfriend when my anxiety would be at its worst. I would snap at him and push him away. I would doubt his love for me. I would doubt my worth to him. Doubt. Doubt. Doubt. It's all I did. He never wavered, but at the time, I felt it was any day that he would leave. That fear added to my anxiety and mixed to make a cocktail of anxiety, fear, anger, and doubt.

I had a real problem. I found a way out.

I began to do little things to keep my mind busy. I began to finger weave. I would give each color of yarn I had an emotion or feeling. Each time I would feel the anxiety creep in, I would sit down, observe my feelings, choose the colors, and weave a small tapestry. It helped tremendously. It kept my mind on something productive and it showed me that I am capable of wonderful things.

The one on the left above my bed in the picture above was woven when I was feeling a little better towards the end of my battle. The white represented peace and the purple represented anxiety. The pink thread in the lower picture stood for love. I wove these with the idea that while I was dealing with all of those feelings, they had to coincide to make something work. I keep it on my wall to remind me of how long it took to get to where the white was majority of the piece.

Another method I used was to take a journal and my Bible and find a verse about being scared or anxious. I would write down my feelings and the verse and write down a quick prayer and piece of advice to myself. Later, I would go back to the journal and re-read everything in the journal to help take my mind off of the anxiety.

My parents and sibling were part of the team who helped me get back to a healthy state. They were always there to uplift me, shake me out of it, and pray with me. My mom would let me fall asleep next to her and brush my hair to help relieve the jitters. They helped me more than they realize.

My sister helped me a lot. I would also go and talk to my sister who dealt with anxiety as well. We would talk for hours about our experiences. It made me feel like less of a broken person and more like a human being with emotions and a soul. My sister was the shoulder I cried on and was one of my biggest supporters and confidants throughout my battle. She listened to me and did not judge me for my irrationality.

I also confided in my boyfriend daily. He pushed me to never give up on myself and that I was so worthy of life and love. He prayed with me every night and he held me when I needed to be consoled. He could have left. He could have given up. He didn't. He was my rock throughout my journey and still continues to be to this day. He understood why I was struggling. He gave me books to read, verses to read, prayers to pray. He loved me when I was unlovable. He helped fix me and helped push me to get over my problems. I couldn't thank him enough.

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Anxiety is a predator that stalks me to this day. In fact, I have dealt with some form of anxiety most days of my life. I know its waiting to pounce on me harder again. I know that it wants to bring me to rock bottom once more. However, I learned so much about myself through this experience. I learned that I AM strong and I can survive anything that is thrown at me.

This time, I am prepared for its attack.

Most importantly, my dance with anxiety has made me a more compassionate, understanding person. I can look into the eyes of someone who I know is going through the same battle and I am genuinely empathetic towards them. I can be a confidant to someone else who I hurting. I can be their rock because I know what it feels like to need one.

Dealing with this made me realize the beauty of life and the extraordinary mental conditions that humans are capable of surviving. I understood how important my mind is and how easy it is to lose control of it. I can appreciate waking up with no anxiety. I can recognize triggers and find ways to avoid them. My anxiety was meant to make me weak, but rather it made me strong.

The first anxiety attack set in motion the issues that I have today, but I decided not to allow it to consume me. What happened that night was a devastation to me and my mental health. Yet, I refuse to give it the power to control my life.

I am not defined by my anxiety. My weakness does not tell me what to do. It tells me I am nothing. It tells me I am unlovable, ugly, dirty, fat, stupid, trash, scum, weak, and absolutely worthless. It told me that I was a waste of God's handiwork.

After all that it told and continues to tell me, I now tell anxiety to suck it. Because I am so much better than a feeling. I am much smarter and cunning than fear. I am worthy of love and of life. I am God's creation I am not a waste of carbon. I am not a waste of a soul. And neither are you.