I can't remember the last time I was completely at peace in my mind.
Everyone experiences being anxious about something. A big test, a life milestone, or a simple conversation all can cause someone to be anxious. When I was younger, I never thought that my constant state of anxiousness was an issue. I believed everyone worried about the things I worried about. As I grew older, I realized that wasn't true.
Anxiety is an invisible beast. It attacks without warning and mauls you without remorse.
It pounces on everything you thought was safe in your mind and leaves you shaking, hurting, and numb. My anxiety is something I’m still learning how to tame.
The stigma surrounding mental illnesses made me scared when I was diagnosed. Would people judge me for having this disorder? Would people judge me for taking medication? Would this medication even work? Was it all worth it?
The answers to those questions go both ways. There is always a judgmental opinion; there is always trial and error with medication. However, the weight of the judgement is manageable with the right medicine. The answer to getting better lies in the decision to care more about your mental wellbeing than what others’ think of you.
When I made that decision, it changed my life. But just because a beast is tamed doesn’t mean it can’t snap.
So here’s what I want you to know about my anxiety…
First, I have some people to thank.
To my mother who saw the signs and took action: Thank you. I would have never gotten help for myself. I would’ve kept fighting this beast alone in painful silence. You were never nagging me. I needed the constant pressure.
To the doctor who was gracious and caring when diagnosing me with anxiety and depression: Thank you. Your belief in my suffering caused you to appropriately treat me. Thank you for not judging me for not coming sooner.
To my friends who said nothing when they saw my medication on my bedside table: Thank you. You knew that I was embarrassed, so you didn’t ask questions. All you did was give me love and reassurance that I would be okay.
Second, there are still people who don’t get what I mean when I say, “My anxiety is out of control right now.”
To my professor who says mental health issues aren’t excuses: I pray you find this thing called empathy. You are the reason I was scared and embarrassed of my mental health. You are part of the problem. You stop people from getting help when they need it. I don’t wish this on you, but dealing with anxiety would give you some inkling of understanding. If you experienced how I felt doing your assignments, you would know why I ask so many questions, and you wouldn’t be annoyed by them. If you experienced an anxiety attack so bad you had to lie on the ground helplessly for hours – gasping for air and praying for relief – you would know why I missed that test. You are right; My education is important, but how am I supposed to learn when I can’t breathe?
To my sorority sister who doesn’t understand “why” my anxiety is bothering me: I appreciate your concern. However, constantly questioning me does not make me better, it adds to it. I know you meant well, but sometimes I need to just be alone to deal with this. Being around my sisters doesn’t help. I love you, but please give me space to figure out how to breathe again without questioning why.
To my classmates who wonder where I am: Sometimes me fighting makes me exhausted. Put that on top of school, a job, and a social life, you’d be exhausted too. There are days I don’t show up to class, and then come the next day like nothing is wrong. That doesn’t negate what I experienced. I had a bad day. I had a bad week. When I show up again, don’t look at me like I’m a slacker. I work my butt off in school. I try just as hard as you. Don’t look at the attendance sheet and decide you know my personal life based on the empty spaces by my name.
Finally, to others struggling like me: It sucks, doesn’t it? You are not alone, though. I know what you mean when you reply “I’m just tired” to a question about if you’re okay. I know what a “bad day” is. I know that some of you have it worse than me, and I wish you relief. I know that some of you are scared and ashamed of your anxiety; Don’t be. A mental illness does not define who we are. You are lovable, you are precious, and – above all – you are heard. Even in your silent struggling, you are heard. So if you have anxiety, keep fighting that invisible beast. Sometimes you’ll lose but that’s okay. If you don’t have anxiety, be compassionate for those who do; They are so much stronger than you see.
