Hello friends. This will probably be my most personal post, so I'd like to ask in advance of you reading this to please be kind and respectful, and please share my message if you agree with me. This post is all about my relationship with anxiety.
I've had anxiety since I was nine years old (in third grade). It started as separation anxiety, where I would panic about going to school and being away from my mom for just those six hours every day. In fourth grade, I was starting to get bullied for being different, especially because every other kid in my grade played sports and I loved music, and at that school, if you don't play sports, you're worthless and they let you know it. This was also the time that the anxiety shifted to being more hypochondria-based. I was terrified that anything, anything, that could be wrong with my health was going to happen. I remember watching a show with my family and during a commercial news break, they mentioned a bird flu outbreak in China. I immediately panicked and was convinced I was going to get bird flu. This is when I started a year of therapy to cope with the anxiety.
I don't remember a lot of the therapy. I only know that by fifth grade, I wasn't going anymore. That doesn't mean I was cured, I was just able to handle it better. I was still being bullied, and I spent the last four years of grade school alone. High school was so much better for me; I had friends, I was involved in a ton of activities, I was finally coming into my own. Anxiety was on the back burner, and it was great.
And then college came. I spent my first semester living at a school an hour away from home, and it was awful. I sobbed for the entirety of move in day, and I came home every weekend. I spent all my time there either in class or in my room, and I made no new friends. I had known my roommate from high school, and we were friends, but she ultimately brought some anxiety back to me. She was just so inconsiderate that I didn't feel comfortable in my own room, which made living there very difficult. I decided to transfer out, and then spent my second semester commuting to a school in the city.
I always knew that my city can be a dangerous place, but so can anyplace else. I was always scared walking from the train to my classes, and then there were always reports of horrible things happening nearby, and I was even more scared to go to school. I finished the semester, and I was so relieved for summer. I had an amazing vacation to look forward to, and I was confident that I was going to finish my degree at that school. But I didn't love what I was doing, and that, as well as the fear for my own safety, ultimately made me decide to not go back.
That was a month ago, and I am now waiting for pastry school to start in January. The only problem is that now my anxiety is so bad that I'm afraid to leave my house. I work at a bakery a few blocks from my home, and I'm scared to walk there. If people walk in front of my house that I don't recognize, I panic. All these reports of crazy things happening all over the country scare the crap out of me. On top of that, I'm also terrified of driving, something I now need to do to feel safe enough to go places, but I'm scared to learn because I had a full-blown panic attack when I was learning to drive four years ago, and that memory has stuck with me to this day.
Now, the easy answer to all these problems is to go back to therapy. But the problem is that now mental illness is "trendy," and people who don't actually have these horrible, crippling diseases throw them around like glitter in the air, fantasizing these things that so many people fight to cope with every day. So my fear is that anyone who knows that I want to go to therapy again or even the therapist won't take me seriously because now, everyone has anxiety. Everyone has OCD. Everyone has ADD, depression, PTSD, and the list of "trendy" illnesses goes on and on. And that is an enormous problem for people like me, who are struggling in the shadow of the trend.
The truth of mental illness is that it's debilitating and crippling. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, because it stops you from living your life. And you can't just "stop," "relax," "don't worry about it," or "stop thinking about it" because "you'll be fine." I can only speak for anxiety, but it's like having a skeptic living in your head. You can give them the most reliable, accurate information possible, and they still won't believe it. They can't stop worrying about it, even if you can actually guarantee they'll be fine.
So all I ask is that the next time you're nervous about something, don't call it anxiety if it's not. If you're sad, don't call it depression if it's not. If you have a stressful experience, don't call it PTSD if it's not. If you like to be organized, don't call it OCD if it's not. These are all diseases, not fun adjectives to validate yourself. It's like saying you have cancer when it's just a cold. It's not okay, and it needs to stop.
I wish you all the best,
Erin
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