Anxiety is not really something I like to talk about for fear of being viewed as someone who is crippled or wounded. It's such a vulnerable facet of who I am but I know there are so many people out there that suffer and when I was at my worst places, I always wondered what all the other people that suffer from anxiety were doing. I promised myself that if I ever became better, I would try and share my story with others so that they might not feel alone.
When I think back on my childhood memories, they all seem to be surrounded by moments of anxiety and fear. For a long time, I chose to not think about certain events that had happened because it was too uncomfortable but eventually I realized, I had always known something was wrong with me. Living everyday life was hard and I couldn't complete basic tasks. I would start to feel sick and nauseous and my hands would become sweaty. My heart would start pounding and I would begin to feel dizzy. All of a sudden my senses would become heightened and every noise and movement felt like an overwhelming form of suffocation. My breathing would become shallow and I would feel like I was out of control and needed to escape. I suffered through this for 13 years before ever realizing what it actually was.
It wasn't until right before I moved to Georgia that the anxiety really erupted. I was on my way back from a family wedding from Iowa when my stomach started to hurt. My mom pulled over at a rest stop and I went into the bathroom. I still wasn't used to the idea of getting my period and I'm not sure if it was the sight of the blood or nausea that caused me to feel light headed and faint. I was able to get myself back out to the car but the fear of being out of control became so severe, I began to feel sick everyday. Feeling anxious wasn't a situational occurrence now. Just existing was unbearable.
I moved to Georgia and attempted to go to school but I felt so sick I thought I would vomit blood. My stomach was squeezed so tight, it made it difficult to breathe. I started seeing a doctor who advised my parents that I needed to take a sabbatical and focus on my health. I was then diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Anticipatory Anxiety and Panic Disorder.
Even though I was always nervous as a child, I didn't consider myself to be nervous. I loved dancing and performing on stage, being the center of attention, being in charge. I didn't think that people who were nervous were out spoken and aggressive but more passive and quiet. It took me a while to accept it. I didn't want to be one of those weird people that had an issue. I figured if I didn't acknowledge it, than it would go away.
It didn't go away, in fact it became much worse to the point where I became agoraphobic and was afraid to even leave my bedroom. The only time I did was to see psychiatrists and therapists who told me I was one of the worst cases of anxiety they had ever seen. I began taking different medications for anxiety and insomnia. To a lot of people, I think the idea of being on medication isn't viewed as bad but to me, it meant failure and weakness. I wasn't a functioning person on my own and I needed to take something to make me normal. This idea really tormented me coupled by the fact that it became a form of teasing from family members. If I was able to come down from my bedroom and I was laughing and joking around, people would ask, "Calm down, did you take your meds?" Some family members would tell me to get over it and to stop trying to get attention. Others would start rumors that I had developed an eating disorder and was suicidal.
During this entire battle, I think that betrayal had been extremely painful and what made me decide to not talk about my anxiety. If my own family, aunts, uncles, cousins were choosing to bully me over my illness then people who didn't know me certainly would. I began to view myself and my anxiety as a great weakness and it became an incredible insecurity of mine. It wasn't enough to feel like I was out of control, I now became aware of how crippled I appeared to people. I remember feeling like such a burden to my parents and wishing I could change who I was. Knowing that if I were different, they wouldn't have to make so many sacrifices for me.
My only solace was reading fashion magazines, sketching clothing ideas and watching old movies. I would lie awake through most of the night and cry thinking of how I would never be able to live out any of my artistic dreams. I was afraid of getting out of control but I was more afraid that I would never be able to function like a "normal" human being and forever be chained to my house.
However, I went to therapy three times a week and kept persevering, hoping that with hard work and using cognitive behavioral therapy techniques, I would be able to do all of the things I had dreamed of. Throughout this time, I slowly started to get better. It was incredibly difficult because I was in my early teens, so I didn't have the maturity to understand how most of the things I was afraid of were situations that wouldn't ever happen. I didn't have the ability to rationalize.
I would struggle to fall asleep and all my fears would manifest. I would feel out of control and worried that I wouldn't be able to calm down. At some points, my greatest fear was getting nervous just because of how difficult it was to calm down. I would find my mom and we would watch something on T.V. to distract me. She would stay up with me all night, trying to calm me down which sometimes took 6-8 hours. I would start shaking and become so terrified that I would vomit or lose my mind until eventually I would tire myself out and fall asleep.
It wasn't until I forced myself to deal with these late night panic attacks on my own that I had a real breakthrough. Up to that point, I couldn't do without my mom because I was so afraid of getting out of control and not having anyone to help me.
I had a lot of setbacks, a lot instances where I became too nervous and became out of control and left the situation too upset. I would then be too afraid to go out again and would get upset with myself. But I never gave up hope, I kept going to therapy and learning how to improve my skills to get better. Slowly, I would apply different techniques to find out which ones worked best for me and over the course of 5 years, I was finally able to be around people again. I ended up returning to school for my junior and senior year of high school and got to go to homecoming, prom, football games and experience all of the drama. My mom would sit in her car in the parking lot for the first two months until I got comfortable. It wasn't without it's challenges. I still had to force myself to get out of bed everyday and push through the feelings of nausea and fear. I had several panic attacks during class and still continue to even now in college. They don't happen very often now but after almost 9 years of therapy, I know how to overcome them before they become too severe.
Anxiety is something I will always struggle with everyday and
I will continue to have flareups during difficult periods. But I have faith that everyday I try to overcome it and push through, I am getting stronger.
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