A study from last December shows that nearly 70 percent of millennials suffer from depression and anxiety. Personally, I have been living with both since I was around 12. Mental illness struck so early in my formative years that my entire personality is built on it. Like a tree growing around and obstacle, I developed around my mental illness. Because of this, I have absolutely no idea who I am without it. This is a problem a lot of people face.
Social anxiety is not just being nervous in new situations. It isn’t being awkward and clumsy in adorable, quirky ways. It’s a debilitating mental disorder. It’s staying in because the thought of anyone looking at you makes you want to cry, even though all you want to do is make friends. It’s the paralyzing fear of doing something new because you’ll embarrass yourself. It’s needing a day to prepare to meet new people. It's practicing conversations over and over in your head until you’re shaking and sweating and crying because you still can’t seem to calm yourself down.
It’s not going out with friends because the instructions of where to meet weren’t clear, and what if you read the text wrong and go to the wrong place or, god, what if no one shows? What if you can’t find something to order quick enough on the menu and everyone stares at you? What if you spill something on your clothes? Are people looking over at you and judging you for being a messy eater? Do you have food on your face? You definitely have food on your face. You have to pee but, god, you can’t see the bathroom, and everyone will think you’re stupid if you ask. You can’t just stand up and look around. Sit there. Hold it. Be uncomfortable. And oh my god the waiter is coming, and you just took a bite, and you should’ve just stayed home. You are a pathetic mess of a person, and everyone you have ever met thinks so, and they all hate you and wish you dead. You should just die.
Of course, logically, I know it’s not true. I know I have friends who love me. I know that no one cares about what I do or if I stand up to look for the bathroom in a restaurant. I know this, I do. But logic has no place in mental illness.
Social anxiety is not simply being shy. A common mistake people make is telling people with anxiety to get over it or calm down. We can’t. Do you think we want to be giant balls of anxiety all the time? We want to calm down. We know we need to calm down, but we mentally cannot do it. Don’t ever tell someone with anxiety that they are overreacting. Trust me, they know they are, and that’s part of what they’re anxious over. Pointing out that they’re overreacting just makes them even more anxious. You are making the problem worse.
The next thing people love to say is, “It’s all in your head.” First off, of course it is all in our head. That’s why it’s called a mental illness. Second, we know.
I once had a therapist deliver this message to me, as if it were a great revelation sent down from heaven itself. “It’s called the Spotlight Effect,” he said. “No one is paying attention to you; they’re only paying attention to themselves. Don’t stress about it.” As if I didn’t already know that and it had never occurred to me, as if that piece of information could magically cure me.
Logically we know that we stress over nothing, but we cannot make ourselves believe it. We cannot mentally comprehend that there is nothing to be anxious over. It’s a wall in our brains keeping us from fully understanding that. That’s the worst part of having an anxiety disorder — we know we’re being irrational, but we just can’t stop. Once again, pointing it out is only going to make us more anxious.
The absolute worst thing to say to someone with anxiety, in my experience, is, “This is easy,” or any variation of that. I know that most people can drive a car without crying. I know that most people can walk across campus without ducking into the bathroom to hyperventilate. I know that most people can go into a store alone or talk to new people. I know that most people don’t have anxiety attacks at Walmart because there are too many people on the same aisle as them.
But I can’t. These things aren’t easy for me. In fact, they’re the hardest things I have to do. By saying, “Why can’t you do this? It isn’t that hard!” you’re making everything worse. Because, once again, we know. Everyday tasks can be extremely difficult for us — we have a mental illness, for crying out loud. Just because things are easy for you, it doesn’t mean they’re easy for everyone else. Anxiety is real, and it eats away at you, and every time someone says one of the above comments, it’s another part of you chipped away. You may think you’re helping, but you’re not.
I’m not saying coddle us. We know the world doesn’t owe us any favors. But if someone tells you they have an anxiety disorder, don’t throw it back in their face. Don’t get angry at them, crying, “Why can’t you just get over it?” when their anxiety makes things difficult for you. It’s called a disorder for a reason. Please, just be a little understanding. Life with anxiety is hell, but we’re doing the best we can.
