Whenever I talk about my anxiety, I compare it to driving around lost in the pouring rain, with very little ability to control anything other than how fast you’re going. You can’t see more than a few feet in front of you, and you’re unsure what street to turn, despite the constant instructions given by a GPS. Eventually, you find your destination, but throughout the way there you constantly question if you’re going to make it through.
That’s pretty much how it feels to have anxiety.
Almost a year ago, I found myself in the campus counseling office, avoiding the eyes of everyone who sat in there in the waiting room with me. At the time, I felt like I was running around like a chicken with its’ head cut off with the burden of my many responsibilities, which included being a full-time student, working at a local paper as a copy editor and staff writer, doing an internship with a website and working at my campus’ library a few days a week. I was like the Energizer bunny, constantly going, and I was quickly losing steam. My “to-do” lists seemed to be endless when I wasn't working, I was doing homework (and vice versa), and every task seemed to crush me until all I wanted to do was cry endlessly for hours.
My anxiety soon became this monster that caused me to spin out of control. In a sense, I had lost control of everything, of my schedule, of being able to control the feelings of anxiety that I was undoubtedly experiencing, angry outbursts when all I wanted to do was explode and most importantly, it felt like I had no control in changing my situation for the better. I felt helpless, and there was little I can do to change how I was feeling.
Throughout the fall semester, I had begun to deal with my symptoms by seeing a counselor at my campus’ counseling center. However, it didn't work out for me for a number of reasons, the main one being that the therapist wasn't as helpful for me, and therapy for me was something I never really went to because I felt like my therapist didn't attend to my needs. At this time, my anxiety was at its all-time worst, and bursting into tears and experiencing panic attacks was just a part of my daily life. However, I thought if I could just hold onto December, once my classes were over, then everything would truly be alright.
I was wrong.
While my anxiety finally began to die down a bit, I still was experiencing these panic attacks. These would occur when I would fight with a friend, trouble at work and I would fight the feelings of panic until they came out everywhere. I felt hopeless, almost like I couldn't shake off this feeling and that I would be stuck with anxiety forever.
At this time, I had decided to get a new therapist, or at least try one out. My school didn't offer to counsel during the winter break, and I knew I needed to see a therapist on a regular basis. It turned out to be the best decision I could have ever made.
My therapist, unlike the former, was more willing to develop a plan to help me formulate a way to truly manage my symptoms than simply suggesting I needed to take medication. I had learned to take breaks when I know I'm feeling stressed out and on the verge of a panic attack, to write my feelings down as a release and that I truly deserve the treat that I reward myself with. And, to take it one step further, she also gave me the tools to help me live not only a happy life but a balanced one to prevent having that happen to me again.
It's been a year since I was diagnosed with it, but I learned one thing-I am not my anxiety. Nor, will I let the symptoms or fears of a panic attack hold me back from being the person I want to be or from doing the things I want to do. My anxiety is a part of me, not the whole package. And, as time goes on, it's becoming a smaller and smaller monster, to the point now where instead of it consuming me, I can hold it in my hand, and crush it completely. When the symptoms of anxiety come, I know how to control it, not the other way around. I also am lucky to now have the support of people who comfort me when I have a bad day and remind me that truly everything will be okay.
And so, while I have a little thing called anxiety, I want to remind each and every one of you that I am not my anxiety. And just so you get the message, I will tell you what I am. I am a journalist, a bibliophile, a daughter and a dog owner. And most importantly, I am strong and am able to look my anxiety right in the eye, and say “you don't scare me.”
