My journey to overcoming anxiety. Part I: My story

When I was 18, or maybe I’d just turned 19, I worked two jobs, paid all my bills (minus rent because I still lived at home) I was in college, I was interning at the public defenders’ office, one of my best friends had just left for tour in Iraq, and I was trying to write a book. (You might say I’ve always been a slightly driven individual.)

And that’s when it started: these terrible, paralyzing anxiety attacks. I couldn’t breathe. Terrible bouts of anxiety that inflicted much emotional, mental, and even physical pain. And they just didn’t end. They went on and on and on. They seemed absolutely inescapable. They terrified me. I didn’t understand them.

They almost devoured me.

At the time, I had no idea what anxiety was. I didn’t know what a generalized anxiety disorder was. I certainly hadn’t heard of PTSD. I was a girl who prided myself on marching into situations with little regard for fear. I could be nervous, even afraid, but that angst would be ignored. If fear was a door, I was the girl who would kick it in.

At least, that’s the girl I thought I was.

But then…anxiety attacked.

My anxiety was so absolutely paralyzing that I had to quit one of my jobs (although, really, that employer was just ick. You know what I mean.). I muddled through my classes (luckily, since I’d been working hard all semester, my grades didn’t suffer), and I withdrew from some social activity. Although when I look back, I finished my internship and I finished my semester and I kept one of my jobs and I did end up self-publishing my book. So, even though I was suffering, and I would suffer for hours and sometimes a full day at a time, I forced myself to push through.

During my worst hours, I’d be alone, in solitude riddled with anxiety so intense I’d shake, rock, sit huddled on the sofa, or I wouldn’t even move. I probably looked as though I was in intense physical pain. And I was. In my better moments, when I was still suffering but not so badly, I finished out my semester. I went to work. I did the things that needed to be done.

But I had a major anxiety issue on the rise. And it seemed like NOBODY understood it. Nobody even really knew what it was. I certainly didn’t.

Some people seemed to have an attitude of: What’s your deal? Everybody has stress. Get over it. While, others had a more compassionate approach: It’s all right. Everyone goes through hard periods of time. You’ll be okay.

But that was the thing, I told myself I’d be okay too. But I didn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it when I whispered it to myself. And I didn’t believe it when other people told me I would be either. How could I? None of us had a clue what was even going on. And I don’t think most people understood the severity of my disorder.

I also told myself to get over it. I judged myself. I was ashamed of myself for having such a weakness as this strange, debilitating, overwhelming emotional/mental issue. And I wasn’t okay with it. I wasn’t okay with me having this problem.

So, I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to brush it under the rug. As if by so doing, I could make it go away. Because the truth was…it was far too big for me to handle alone.

God, what a lonely, frightening time that was for me. And it was far from over.

I have learned over the past 9 years that anxiety is not something to be ignored. Yet, it’s also definitely not something to be bowed to.

If you have anxiety, don’t give up. There is hope. I know.

I’ll give you more of my story in Part II of this series, in which I’m writing about anxiety and my journey through it. And hopefully, if you are struggling through anxiety, I will have some encouragement and some advice to help you get through.

 

Have you ever experienced anxiety, panic attacks, or debilitating anxiety? If so, if you feel comfortable, because it’s oh so personal, leave me a note below. Even a short one that maybe just says “Yes.” I’d love to at least say a prayer over you.