I never knew there was a word for what I was experiencing until around middle school. From third grade to seventh grade I was on the swim team. My practices were long, and my brothers were young, so my parents would often drop me off and come back to get me. However, I didn't understand that. I truly thought they wouldn’t come back. Most of my panic attacks went unnoticed because I was in the pool, surrounded by water. No one could tell I was crying through my goggles. But of course my parents would return, and I would feel a lot better. As the years went by I felt this feeling take over my life.

I noticed how much I was constantly worrying. My mom noticed how negative and “what if-y” I was. For any situation, big or small, I would create dozens of “what if” questions and most of them made absolutely no sense. It was actually quite funny how ridiculous I was being.

My biggest fear was death. Not my own, but death of people I care about. Due to the amount of loses I experienced as a kid, I am constantly wondering who will be next. I would always think something bad was happening. For example, if I knew my dad was driving and he wasn’t picking up the phone I would convince myself that he got into an accident. Because I care deeply about so many people, these thoughts took over. I started to have physical symptoms, like shortness of breath and even some hair loss. In tenth grade, the peak of my anxiety, I even fainted and was sent to the emergency room in an ambulance. After three hours in the E.R. and a sonogram of my heart, they decided that it was most likely anxiety and that I should see a therapist.

I’ve been through quite a few therapists since I was a child. As much as it helps to have someone to talk to, I didn’t feel like it was enough for me. Eventually it was getting to be overwhelming and I was starting to feel hopeless. I started to ask my mom about medicine and if she thought it would help me.

I think the wakeup call for my mom was during the middle of my senior year when I was on senior trip. Around 350 of us went upstate to a resort called Rocking Horse Ranch and everybody was having a lot of fun. But me? During karaoke night I was crying in the bathroom stall. I texted my mom and told her how upset I was. It truly wasn't normal that I was so upset even though I was surrounded by so many of my friends.

Then I really started to stress out. This trip was a week before my school Europe trip. How could I survive ten days in another country when I couldn't even do two nights upstate? There were times I begged her, tears streaming down my face, that she would pull me out of the Europe trip. Everyday I am thankful that she didn’t.

My mom and I immediately made an appointment with a new doctor. My pediatrician couldn't prescribe the medication we were seeking, so I had to withdraw from his care and start seeing a family doctor who my mom also used. Since the anxiety was now interrupting my everyday life, we realized I needed to see a doctor.

I didn't say much during the appointment. My mom did most of the talking. She discussed my childhood, the things I went through, and the losses I experienced. He decided that something called Lexapro (escitalopram) would be best for me. Its classified as an SSRI, or selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. This roughly means that it blocks the reuptake of serotonin which increases the level of that neurotransmitter in the brain. Its primarily used for treatment of depression and generalized anxiety disorder.

I’ve met quite a few people, including my own father, who are against drugs like this. People have told me that I need to learn how to “cope” and that truly makes me feel like everything I’ve tried in the past was for nothing. I’ve come to realize that I am the only one who knows how I felt before and I’m the only one who knows how I now feel. My mom is happy with how the medicine is working for me. All that matters is that I’m doing a lot better, and as much as anxiety will always be a part of my everyday life, I am certainly learning how to deal with it.