I wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, and unable to breathe. That is what life is like with anxiety. I will shake and feel my legs cave in, as my chest begins to hollow from the inside. I feel numb. Always. It has become a perpetual state of being, numb. My depression will be dormant for months on end. Then, it hits me. Like a ton of bricks falling on my head and landing on my chest. My chest, the object that is the target of my mental illnesses. I feel as if it is empty while still being filled to the point where I am choking.

It may not be obvious, but there are little signs. I will push my thumbnail into the side of my pointer finger when I am overwhelmed. When I feel jumpy, I will shake my right foot until it will go numb. I often sit alone, on a bus in the back or even on bathroom floors (best place for anxiety attacks, trust me). I will pull the ends of my hair to try to release the screams in my head when I remain utterly silent. I bit my lips to keep myself from saying that I feel like broken glass that keeps shattering.

This is not a self-diagnosis. Nor is this something that occurs when I am stressed out or feeling melancholy. I am clinically depressed with severe anxiety. I still function though. It is not as if I have been given to opportunity to not function. The burdens of everyday life still affect me. I feel numb all the time. Although, inside my head, there is a different situation. I am screaming for help and out of anguish. Yet, I remain silent. Trapped in my own thoughts and fears of being "crazy."

That word, "crazy." I hear the sound of my ex-boyfriend saying he has a type, 'crazy girls' as he points to me. I see the self-help books I have read since age 13, that say it is a "phase." That teenagers feel stressed and it is the hormones. But, it is not my hormone that makes me feel like there is this invisible being sitting on my chest. Pushing it to the concave inside. It is a not a phase that I feel utterly empty inside most of the time.

Yet, the days drag on. Somedays I will wake up hopeful, no anxiety in sight. I will see the sun or hear the birds chirp. I will look at the freshly planted flowers on my campus. The little things, those are the things that hold me together. Together, the thing that I crave to be. I wonder what will magically glue me back together. To be whole inside. Then, the anxiety attacks begin to chip away at my pieced together self. I have become puzzled pieces of memories that I desperately want to burn away.

There are days I just want to run. Far away from myself, but no matter how far I go. They are still there. They have become implanted inside of me, aspects of who I am. I can smile and try to be okay, but they remain attempts. You begin to just to pray for a day that you can manage.

Numb, that feeling is hard to describe unless you feel it. You can no longer be a lifeline for yourself. Since sometimes you can not even trust your own thoughts or feelings. The things you used to love, seem tedious and too much energy to bother with. It is a day to day struggle that is internal. There is no band-aid to put on after an anxiety attack. There is no cast for when you are depressed. It affects you though, even more than a physical pain. The mental pain of struggling to breathe consumes your being.

I am hopeful that better days will come. But, I am aware that so will the bad days. That is what life is like for someone with a mental illness. Put aside the medication, therapy, and self-health meditations. The only thing you can do is hope for more good days than bad. If the bad begin to outweigh the good days, you just learn to brace your feet square to the ground.