The bright sun was barely up, and I could already feel my heart in my throat. I started to make my way to the entrance. My hands were shaking violently, my breathing was unsteady, my mind jumping from one worry to the next so fast that I couldn't produce a single clear thought. Everything felt so overwhelming. I wanted to run back to the car and go home. None of these feelings were new to me. I've struggled with anxiety and panic attacks for as long as I can remember. My parents had told me that even when I was little, I would freak out over the tiniest things, situations that I had no control over, things no one else would think twice about. I remember having increased anxiety when I was in a social situation with a large crowd. It was 7:45 am, and my day was about to begin. I collected myself and weaved past the crowds of people near the busy entrance. I opened the door and crept into Hill-Murray for my first day of high school. I want to say that things improved after that day. But, as often is the case, things get worse before they get better.
My anxiety grew worse as I entered my sophomore year. My panic attacks were increasing in severity and became more frequent. Most days, it was hard for me to get through a class without having to leave the room to calm myself down. One morning, I was in the middle of a history test when my anxiety forced me to leave the room. I hurried to the nearest bathroom, hoping my classmates didn't notice my breakdown. I locked myself in one of the stalls and called my dad. Through my sporadic breaths and tears, I explained the situation. He told me to go to the front and would be there shortly to take me home. From there, I told my parents how bad things had recently gotten. Once I had calmed down, my parents and I sat down and discussed possible solutions for my anxiety. Healing my mental state did not happen overnight. It took two years to say I was doing better confidently.
I went on to find a therapist that I felt comfortable being around. With the help of my therapist, parents, and friends, I started feeling comfortable in my head again. I began taking anxiety medication. I began working on minor improvements, things I could do that would slowly but surely help me get better. I practiced "grounding" techniques to help me regain a calm state of mind. I was able to stay in my classes longer, finish tests, and handle social situations. Improving didn't come quickly. I still had days when my anxiety would get the better of me. But I didn't let it win. Now in my senior year, I and others close to me have noticed my improvements. Not every day is perfect; I still have my days where my anxiety gets the better of me, and I feel like that scared freshman all over again. But I continue to use and develop the skills I learned in order to improve myself and my life. I am proud to say that I am in a much better place than I was on that first day of freshman year.