There is not a moment in my life when I can remember feeling completely free from anxiety. Sometimes its presence is only evident in the twitching of a leg or the tapping of a finger that expels the excess nervous energy coursing through my body, other times it overwhelms me, taking away my ability to do anything except fight for my life against the thoughts in my own head. I have a disease that has no cure. I have always been this way, and I always will be this way. It is a chronic illness. It can’t be beaten or cured, but it can be tamed and controlled so that I can go on with my life just like anybody else.

Sometimes my anxiety looks like bitten down fingernails, a constantly shaking leg, and a need to fill every moment of silence with conversation. It appears in little quirks that some people find annoying or endearing, and others don’t notice at all. They may seem insignificant but to me these habits are a life line. They keep me sane and calm on days when my anxiety is at it’s usual baseline level.

Then there are days when I worry constantly. My mind is filled with thoughts that come from the darkest and most insecure places inside of me. There is no rhyme or reason behind the way that I feel other than the fact that my anxiety makes me think that way. It is days like these when I feel like a burden to everyone I love. I want to talk to them about how I feel, but I don’t, because I know that hearing their words of love and understanding will only make me feel worse. A lot of the time I isolate myself when this happens because how I feel is my problem, and nobody else should have to help me bear the weight of the anxiety and depression that are slowly beginning to crush me.

The worst of it happens suddenly and completely out of nowhere. My thoughts start racing at the speed of light and my body kicks into an adrenaline fueled state of overdrive. My breath comes in rapid shallow gasps that do nothing to provide me with oxygen, and everything to fuel my panic. I can’t move or speak and my face is wet with the tears that pour from my eyes. My chest is tightening, squeezing my heart against my ribs, threatening to burst open at any moment. My stomach writhes and churns and I am keeled over the toilet at three in the morning, sobbing on the phone to my parents, puking my guts out and trying rid myself of the waves of terror that rip through me over and over again. I want to scream and run, but I am paralyzed with fear, trapped inside my head with no way out, waiting and hoping that somebody will come and save me. I hate myself for feeling this way because I know how irrational it is, but I can’t calm down

Just a few months ago I was experiencing the very worst that my anxiety had to offer all day, every day, without fail. Each hour felt like an eternity I had to live through, and I struggled to keep up the fragile facade of normalcy that I needed every time I was around other people. During that time panic attacks were an expected part of my day. If I was lucky I would get by with just one or two, but more often I would have to endure five or six bouts of overwhelming, all consuming panic. I completely gave up on myself, and if it weren’t for the wonderful people in my life I honestly don’t know where I would be today.

It wasn’t until I started therapy that I learned the most important truth about anxiety; it gets better. I’m not saying that it ever goes away entirely, but there are so many ways to manage it and confront it so that you can live your life on your own terms. It took me a long time to realize that my anxiety is not my fault, and that it is actually okay to be anxious. There is no magic trick that will make it all better, that takes time, patience, and a whole lot of love from the people around you. All you can do is try as hard as you can not to put pressure on yourself to be okay all the time, and to find lifelines that can save you when you’re starting to spiral. I know that in writing this I’m being hypocritical; often times I struggle to follow my own advice, but I do work hard every day to keep my anxiety under control, and I’m far more successful than I used to be.

Every person has their cross to bear, and this is mine. My anxiety has pushed me around, kicked me when I was down, and left me with scars that will never fade. I am flawed just like everyone else, but I am also brave and strong, and most importantly, I am going to be okay.