Yup, I finally caved and took the plunge into the therapist's office. What made me feel the need to finally go? Well, I am a sophomore in college, that alone is reason enough. However, there was much more going on personally than I had cared to acknowledge previously. If you are someone like me — someone who likes to be there for everyone but then faces the world alone when you need support — then I hope this helps.

Know that you are not burdening people, you are still strong, and everyone needs a little help now and then.

I started considering going to a therapist about a month ago, after I wound up in the hospital. Nothing too serious, but it basically was a wake-up call to take better care of myself. After my hospital visit, I realized I had become more anxious — a feeling I'm not unfamiliar with. For a couple of weeks, I pushed it down and simply just tried ignoring it. I could not stand to think of going back to being the anxious girl I had been so many years before. So I kept it to myself. I maybe let it show through some crude humor, but mostly masked it.

Eventually, it got the point where it was an everyday occurrence. I struggled to survive one day without having one or more panic attacks. I knew this feeling...very well. I needed a professional. I ended up calling my university's counseling office and was put on a two-week waiting list. For any of you who have experienced severe anxiety, you know how long a day can feel let alone two whole weeks. But I had no other option besides to wait, so I did.

Surprisingly those two weeks were not as horrific as I was anticipating. I knocked my ego down enough to tell my roommates what was going on, and they really made a difference those two weeks. Then, the appointment day came. I probably had at least three panic attacks that day, it was painful. But I made it. I made it into that glorious office with the cute plants and the aesthetically pleasing furniture. I was going to be fixed...ha!

Do not get me wrong, it was a great session, and my therapist was fantastic. Although, I did not feel fixed, and I was confused as to why. I chalked it down to first-time jitters and maybe it will sink in later. Two sessions later I still did not feel back to my "normal" self, and at this point was causing my anxiety. Will I ever feel normal again?!

The bottom line is I still do not feel 100 percent Kayla, whatever that means or used to mean. Shoot, some days I think "this can't get any worse" and then it does. But that is how I know the therapy is helping. I am much more aware of what makes those days worse and why I am feeling such dread. There is so much I just swept under the rug for so long and it is catching up to me. For so long I let my feeling and thoughts go unspoken and just cause havoc to my mental health.

Therapy has provided me an outlet for my thoughts and feelings, as well as valuable coping mechanisms that go beyond bathing in essential oils. I do not know when I will feel solid enough to discontinue therapy or if I might need more than therapy, but I do know that even showing up to a session is something. There is a giant stigma around mental health solutions such as therapy or medication, and there should not be.

If you have a cough, you go to the doctor who prescribes medicine or rest. When you break a bone, a doctor puts on a cast to help you heal. Therapy should be seen in the same way. You have anxiety, OCD, depression, bipolar disorder, etc., you go to a therapist or psychiatrist to figure out how to make you feel better.

If you are someone who genuinely suffers from an anxiety disorder like me but has been putting off therapy — take the plunge.

I know that statement in itself might cause anxiety, but part of healing is going out of your comfort zone. Keep hanging in there and know you are not alone. Anxiety isn't exclusively unique, but you are, and your mental health matters. Take your health into your own hands and be proud, make that call.