When most hear the word anxiety, the thoughts and ideas that pop into mind are the stereotypical, 'normal' feelings that tend to be associated: worry, fear, shakiness, sweating, etc.

When most hear the word depression, the thoughts and ideas that pop into mind are similar in the sense that it's the 'mainstream' words that we tend to associate: sad, lonely- we picture someone in bed, lights off, with a dark storm cloud hovering over.

And with insomnia, we tend to think it is as simple as having the inability to sleep.

And although for many those feelings and ideas are typical and accurate, for many others like myself, that isn't even the half of it.

I had my first panic attack when I was five or six years old. A panic attack is felt differently for everyone. For some, their entire body tenses, they feel as if they can't breathe, and the immediate thought is that there is something wrong, that they're having a heart attack, or dying.

For me, the physical symptoms are similar- my body tenses, I start to shake, and my breath is short and fast with no intent of going back to normal any time soon. However, I don't fear that I am dying in that moment, I fear that I will be dying at some point in my life.

It's the constant lingering thoughts of death and the world around me. The unknown. The questions that even the greatest scientists in the world can never answer with full certainty.

What happens when you die? What will it be like? Where do I go?

And although those are thoughts that many people ponder- those thoughts are the ones that haunt me every waking and sleeping moment of my life. I don't simply ponder them. I hone in on them, and I cannot fathom the fact that those questions cannot be answered until it eventually happens. Many people turn to religion, or a spiritual belief that soothes them and that they are comfortable with. I am not comfortable with a simple belief. I need a clean-cut answer, not a 'what if' or a 'if you believe,' or 'it's thought of as peaceful.' That doesn't help me.

There is always something in my head about death or the world in a larger sense- on this absurd spiritual scale that does not have context. I'm sure there is someone out there that obsesses over questions about the world and life that can't be answered, and thoughts that can't be translated into anything more than panic and tears, but if you have not spent as much time in your head as myself, let me tell you, it is frustrating, debilitating, and my god, it's exhausting beyond words.

It's this nasty cycle: topic to topic, lost in thoughts, continuously thinking with your mind spinning, going millions of miles per second, until you have found yourself paralyzed in distress, sadness, and pure fear. But even once you reach that point, the thoughts and feelings don't end. Just when I think that I've been torn down and it's as low as I can possibly go, my mind surprises me and reminds me that it can always go deeper than the emotions and sensations that I'm feeling right then and there.

This battle against this fear is one that cannot be won until death is one day upon me. And that is something that I have to live with and accept. It is one that I have been living with before I even knew that it was going to have such an impact on my life.

In 8^th grade, I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I was up until 4 in the morning with my mom and/or dad, crying, screaming, begging that they help get this demon out of my head. I went from skipping in the hallways to slugging through each day. From laughing non-stop 24/7 to barely being able to crack a fake smile.

In 9^th grade, I was out of school for 2-3 months because I had intensive thoughts of suicide. I was admitted into Carrier Clinic, an inpatient hospital for children and teens with mental illnesses that provided extensive care. I resided there for 6 or 7 days, where I played Just Dance on the Wii and volleyball with girls younger and older than myself, all suffering from their own plethora of illnesses. I then went into an outpatient program called High Focus, which my mom and I referred to as "High Fuck-Ass" because it was a place I knew I needed to be but dreaded going every day from 9am to around 3 or 4pm- instead of being in high school with my friends and missing my first year of high school basketball.

Not to mention, I was sleeping maybe 4-5 hours, maximum, a night. I kept myself up all night every night because I was scared that if I closed my eyes and fell asleep, that would be the end, and I wouldn't live to see another day.

My grades in 9^th grade were absolute crap, for I missed half the year, understandably. It was a complete self-esteem crippler, and something I thought I would never bounce back from.

Come years later, I am about to be a junior at the University of Maryland, with a double major in psychology and kinesiology, with semester GPA's averaging around a 3.5.

College so far has been no walk in the park either. Freshman year was a disaster to say the least. My 5 hours of sleep a night turned to three, and I received more F's and C's than I ever thought possible. I questioned my overall capability and whether or not someone who suffers from such mental impairment was cut out for a 'normal' college life. I ended up having to switch antidepressants and was diagnosed with ADHD the summer after.

Trying to find the right medications in itself is a nightmare. Some made my hair fall out. Not to mention in high school I had trichotillomania, a disorder where you impulsively pull out your hair, and now I have these hairs that are a completely different length than the rest, which now looks like I just received a bad haircut- something I've learned to laugh about but used to cry about.

Some genuinely made me felt like I was crazy, more so than I already am. I was calling my psychiatrist, therapist, brother, and parents claiming I had borderline personality disorder or something other than anxiety and depression because whatever was going on in my head was simply not right. I scared my friends and family on the daily.

One medication I think I was on for maybe a week before I told my mom that this pill was the Satan of all medications.

Finally, we found the right ones and I am back on track. However, just for a glimpse of the road it took to get to where I am now, here are a few 'excerpts' of notes that I kept on my computer when I was feeling down:

"we're at a stand-still battle with depression. it is a constant battle of being afraid of death but wanting nothing more than to be dead. it's quite the sticky situation if you ask me. i hate being around people but being alone is the most dangerous thing for me at this moment in time. i wake up in the morning dreading the day, and i go to bed at night dreading the morning. there is nothing enjoyable about life right now. i'm definitely alive, my heart is beating, my vital signs are fine, but i certainly am not living. i'm just going through the motions."

"it's like I'm stuck in some overwhelming, overpowering haze- a haze who's fog looks like it goes on to the end of the earth, and then some. it feels as if there really is not much hope or chance that my life is really ever going to change."

"it's always going to be a vicious cycle of depression and anxiety, with occasional sparks of happiness that i take for granted. happiness isn't something that should be seen as a 'privilege,' it should simply be a part of everyday life. i'm not saying everyone should be happy all the time, because that's simply not realistic, but something should make you genuinely happy at least once a day. let it be a tv show, a song, something someone says, sitting with people, a certain food, a picture of a dog- whatever it is, there should be one thing that brings a genuine smile to your face each day. however, i still find myself fake smiling consistently throughout the day because it doesn't matter who it is, what it is, or what i do, nothing makes me genuinely happy anymore."

"this is why i stop closing my eyes at night. its almost 6am and i haven't slept yet. so i put on some "relaxing" music to hopefully help clear my mind and regulate my breathing, help me refocus on just being, and relaxing, rather than wheels constantly spinning in my head. but instead, darkness within my own mind triggers something else. it doesn't trigger clearance or sleep, but memories and thoughts, and how the problems i have, have been prevalent since i was in the first grade."

"I remember my dad laying beside me in bed after i would come to him out of breath, and him comforting me by saying "the smartest people think the most at night, and think the deepest." I would tell him i'd rather be dumb that be up all night, and to this day, i would take a low IQ over the minimal sleep, rest, and relaxation i get."

"Every night that i run out of my room, screaming for help, my mom would jump awake and say "another bad thought?" god, i wish it were that simple as a "bad thought." if it were just a "bad thought," maybe the physical aspects wouldn't come along, like the shaking, the constant picking at anything and everything, the tense muscles 24/7, the knot in my stomach that never goes away, etc. maybe if it were just a "bad thought," the anxiety and depression, which has been built up inside of me, wired into the person that i have and continue to become, would be a simple phase or one small bump in my childhood and adolescence, rather than a mountain range with peaks much higher than the leveled valleys below, and the climb much steeper than an average hill."

It's been an up and down battle, to say the least. However, these anxieties and fears have shaped me into who I am. I do not thank the illness that I have, but I am thankful for myself, that even at a young age, I found the courage somewhere inside to keep fighting, knowing that one day, it will all pay off. I thank my mom and my dad, for answering my calls at ungodly hours of the night, and for my brother for never failing to make me laugh or feel comforted. I thank my friends who have never given up on me or turned their head when I was in need. I thank my therapist and psychiatrist for doing everything in their power to help me in every way possible, even when I was resistant.

For anyone reading who may feel the same, know that although these illnesses may be stuck inside of us, they do not define us. They do not define you. Only YOU can decide your future. If you would have asked me if I would be at the University of Maryland, in a sorority, with the number of friends that I have, both boys and girls, having the courage to write what I am writing now four years ago, I would have told you that you are on crack and should probably take a Xanax yourself.

Not every day is going to be perfect, but there is something perfect in everyday- whether it is the weather outside, the first bite into a peanut butter banana sandwich, or simply putting your head on the cold side of the pillow- something is going your way.

Remember to keep your chin up, fake it till you make it because one day you won't have to fake it anymore, and to keep on keeping on.

The moon shines the brightest on the darkest of nights and the more challenging the climb up the mountain, the better the view.

Yours Truly,

The almost 20-year-old who thinks that being 20 means that her life is a quarter over, rather than just getting started.