I was in seventh grade when I almost drowned in Florida. I’ll never forget the feeling of being stuck under water, seeing the sunlight above me, but not being able to reach the surface to get air. My world was caving in around me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I eventually broke the surface, as I gasped for all the air that my lungs could contain. This is a feeling I will never, ever forget. Mainly, because I still experience that exact feeling every single day of my life. However, I am not in a pool. I am not under water. I am constantly drowning in my own life. I get this feeling every single day; and this is the best way I can describe my anxiety to someone else.
I have always suffered from anxious feelings. However, it wasn’t until this summer where I felt that I had enough and I needed to seek medical help. I had tried speaking to counselors previously, but nothing worked. This summer I was officially diagnosed with anxiety and panic disorder, and was put on an anti-anxiety/depression medication. I thought being put on this medication would help me, would take away this terrible ailment. It has helped, but it does not take it away. I don’t like the fact that I have to rely on this medication to help me sleep at night, to calm me down, to relax. I want to be able to control this myself, and I just can’t, but believe me, I am trying. I am not seeking attention, I am not being dramatic and I am most certainly not overreacting. And that is exactly what people don’t understand about anxiety. Anxiety is a term that is constantly thrown around; it’s a common term that everyone uses to describe their anxious feelings. For those who know what it’s like to deal with anxiety, we know these people don’t understand the half of it. Yes you may be anxious, but that does not always mean you have anxiety.
Because the term anxiety is thrown around so much, people look at you sideways when you say you have anxiety. This is very unsettling. I often shut down, go silent, disappear mid-conversation for no apparent reason. I constantly feel judged for this, and it hurts. Yes I am that girl that has to take out my inhaler mid-exam because I can't control my breathing and focus, and no, staring at me doesn't make me feel any better. I have emotional breakdowns and panic attacks to the point where I can’t breath and feel like I am drowning again. I want to tell you how hard it is to know that I am this way, and can’t always control it. It’s very hard to tell you I am this way and why I am this way.
Anxiety, to me, doesn't mean getting wound up for a little while. It means body numbness, headaches, uncontrollable crying, tremors, feeling cold, sweating, rapid heart rate, expansive fear, and words tumbling out in the wrong order. For days, even weeks sometimes. Even with family and friend support. Even with clean eating, exercise and medication. I want to tell you that not all anxiety is the same, and I know that.
Every day my anxiety has me waking up on edge, my mind racing, making lists in my head of all the things I have to do, trying to plan my day, my actions, what I’ll wear, the way I talk, the eye contact I make, panicking that somehow I’ll screw up something, everything. I always feel like I can't sit still, and that I have to move from one thing right on to the next in fear that if I let my mind wander, even for a second, I’ll fall into a mental breakdown.
Now I am not writing this to get attention, I am not writing this for sympathy. I am simply writing this for myself, and to help you, my friends, family and loved ones understand what’s going on with me a little bit better. Talking about my anxiety is something I find challenging. I have tried writing this several times before, however each time I ended up deleting it, shutting my laptop and walking away because I simply couldn’t put this out there.
I try to hide my struggling, but I know you see it. You see it because you care. And because you care, you often try to help. You tell me to take deep breaths. You tell me to calm down, or to stop worrying. You try very hard to diffuse the situation. I’m writing this, because I want to be fair to you. I want you to understand what my anxiety is and what it feels like, because I want you to know that I’m not ignoring your advice. I know that my emotions can be hard for you to deal with, and that our relationship isn’t an easy one for you. For that reason, I feel like I owe you an explanation. The words “calm down” force me to struggle against my anxiety. And the water rises just a little more.
It should be obvious, but please keep in mind: If I could stop my anxiety, I would have done so by now. These emotions are not a choice, or something that I have invited into my life. So please stop telling me to calm down. Please stop using phrases that imply that I should be able to control my anxiety.
I know you want to help me -- you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t, and I love you for that. I wish you didn’t have to deal with this; you probably feel the same way about me. So this is a learning process for both of us. I promise to keep trying to find new ways to cope with my anxiety. In return, I simply ask that you don't give up on me, even if it gets challenging. Relationships like ours are often what keep my head just above the water. And that means everything to me.
So to everyone who has read this all the way through, to everyone who has stuck by my side when they didn’t know what to do, to everyone who has offered help, hugs, and advice; here is my thank you to you.
Love always,
Your friend who is able to keep her head above the water because of you
