When I was 17, I went to therapy for the first time and was diagnosed with overactive anxiety and panic disorders. I was having panic attacks almost everyday and I didn’t know how to handle them. It is a terrifying feeling to be fine one minute and all of a sudden have a full blown panic attack in the middle of a P.F. Chang’s, while everyone in the restaurant looks at you hyperventilating and crying into your fried rice.

My mom was concerned and wanted to find ways to help me alleviate some of my anxiety without resorting to medication. She had struggled with anxiety for most of her life and knew that everyone handles it differently. She wanted me to find some kind of creative outlet and suggested that I start writing. She told me the best way to write anything is just to sit down in front of your computer and just type anything you want. It doesn’t have to make sense. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It was just for me. I had never really put much thought into writing if it wasn’t for school assignment. I never liked the idea of keeping a diary or journal. But one night when my mind was racing and I couldn’t sleep one night, I just started writing. I wrote about my generation's addiction to technology (admittedly my own addiction) and how I felt about it. It was something that just came naturally to me and it didn’t have to be perfect because it was just for me. I emailed it to my mom just to see what she had thought.

The next morning, when I came downstairs, she had her iPad open with one of the biggest smile I had ever seen. She told me she was not only happy that I was starting to write, but she loved what I had written. Let me explain to you why this was a big deal to me. My mom’s spent the bulk of her career as a television executive, sifting through hundreds (if not thousands) of writing samples and reading scripts for television. If she thought I could write, then maybe I actually could…

To have my mom tell me my writing made her laugh and I needed to somehow publish it for other people to read, was one of the biggest compliments I had ever received from anyone. We began to bond in a whole new way. She would not only help me with my horrible grammar, but give me constructive criticism of what I needed to do. Writing had helped control my anxiety, become closer with my mom and find a new skill I never knew I had.

Her love and encouragement of my writing, led her to wanting to write a book herself, but she confessed she had not idea where to start. I gave her the same advice she gave me, "Just write whatever you want."

She started by writing an excerpt about how much she dreaded Mondays. She sent it to me and asked my opinion. I was thrilled to finally be able to read some of her work like she was doing with mine. I read it and absolutely loved it. I gave her my feedback and told I wanted to read more of her writing. Stephen King talks about having a “designated reader” (someone you write for). My mom became my “DR” and I became hers.

We soon began to have something special we shared between us: writing to help our anxiety...and mostly by trying to make each other laugh as we tried to out do each other with our respective neuroses. My mom always loved to remind me of a quote Mark Twain said, “Humor is tragedy plus time.”

Writing has done more for me than just talk about how I feel on a certain day. It has brought me closer to my mom, help me find an outlet for my anxiety and find a way for my voice to be heard. So thank you Mom for pushing me to write, it really has changed my life.