The heart begins to race. Palms accumulate with sweat. Muscles tense up as the sheer feeling of panic overwhelms the senses.

This is only a glimpse into the mind of someone who suffers from anxiety. It is a very real and palpable mental health disorder affecting approximately 18% of the human population (ages eighteen and up) in the United States alone --that's roughly forty million people.

If you or anyone you know suffers from this mental health disorder, it comes as no surprise how much it significantly influences one's personal life. Everyone at some point experiences feelings of panic, worry, or fear; yet when it becomes a chronic issue that begins to interfere with daily life, that's when it becomes a certifiable disorder.

So why bring up this rather intense and sobering topic of interest? Well, yours truly suffers from anxiety, and I have a message to share. No, it's not just for my fellow anxious dwellers...this is directed to any single person willing to listen and learn a thing or two about this disorder. Because for every person diagnosed with anxiety, there are countless others that can help, listen, and support that one just by understanding what they're going through. And if there is one thing that will always seem to cure what is deemed "incurable," it is love from those around you.

Let me start by giving a small backstory of my personal struggle: I was diagnosed at the start of 2012 after I began to encounter bouts of panic and acute anxious thoughts when I could not explain random health concerns. I will admit it. I was the person who surfed the internet (undoubtedly WebMD) for countless hours coming to the conclusion that my symptoms matched a terminal illness. I contemplated my will several times. I personally identified with memes, often shouting at my computer "HA. That's totally me."

But the panic was real, and it wouldn't let up. It got so bad I had to see a psychologist and eventually get prescribed an anti-anxiety medication to get me through the day. I couldn't sleep by myself, I cried almost every day, I practically reverted back into being a child. The worst part was that I felt no one could understand me. I was losing control and I was afraid to be alone.

But I got help. I talked to people, and they listened. I took time for myself to really accept and appreciate what I was going through. Four years later, I still have anxiety and it still enters my life when I least expect it. It has manifested itself in different forms in which I must adapt to and conquer.

It will never go away. Just like the freckles on your face or the brown of your eyes, it will stay.

But don't let that scare you. And most importantly, don't let it define you. You are not your disorder, and you must remember that. It's going to be a battle, and oftentimes it feels like it may be a losing one. Yet you must never forget that you are not alone, that there are people who are going through the exact same thing that can relate and give you some of the most incredible advice you may ever receive. There will be those who have no idea how to comprehend the way you're feeling, but they shower you with endless support and love because they want nothing more than to see you happy.

Love and patience. Two key ingredients that will get you through your toughest moments. You will receive them from the people around you, but you must also extract them from yourself. Whatever helps you to feel better when you feel like you are at your lowest point, don't hesitate to do it (unless it involves harming yourself or others). Drive for hours to clear your mind. Meditate. Write your thoughts in a journal. Talk to somebody, anybody. Laugh in the face of it. Or maybe just get to the top of a mountain and howl to your heart's content...you may find others singing with you.

And do not shame yourself if you have to turn to medication. I did at first, because I thought I wasn't strong enough to handle things on my own. But sometimes you need a push in the right direction, and it is definitely no indication of weakness. If anything it reveals your strength in taking control and refusing to let it define who you are.

You are not your anxiety. It is not your past. It is not your present. It is certainly not your future. It may be a part of you, but you are an entity all your own. You got this. I believe in you.