Since the dawn of time, people have struggled in some form or another. These struggles can range from the simple to the complex. Life is a struggle and sometimes you need to go through something troublesome in your life to find out who you really are and just how strong your are. Here is the story of my struggle.

All my struggles with anxiety and OCD started in August of 2005, right before my sixth birthday when my father told me he was shipping out to Iraq and he’d be gone for a while. Of course, I was so young I didn’t get the full weight of what was really going to happen until he told my mother when she came to pick me up. Immediately, the tears started streaming down her face as if they came straight from Lava Falls. The car ride home was distinctly different from the usual car rides home. I remember due to the fact that it was silent, barring the exception of my mom’s sobbing. Usually the car ride home entailed me telling my mother how my weekend went and what my dad and I did together. I only saw him one more time before he shipped off for pre-deployment training. Time seemed to fly by as if I was on the Millennium Falcon and at a stand still in the same moment. First grade was a blur. Mostly, I remember being moody, having my highs and lows. At this point my mother knew something was psychologically wrong with me. After all, she did major in Psychology. She took me to go see a psychiatrist and for a while that worked, but first grade ended and it was getting towards my birthday. Memories of everything that transpired about a year before came to the surface and I broke down. Summer’s remaining days flew by and second grade crept up. All I wanted was a chance to see my dad again. Little did I know, he concocted a plan to surprise me at school and take me camping for a week or so. The instant I saw him at the door I ran and gave him a hug, toppling over chairs in my wake all while my teacher was in the midst of a math lesson. More than ever, I wanted this camping trip to go by at a sloth’s pace, but the saying “time flies when you're having fun” was true. After he dropped me off at my house and left, I ran up to my room and began crying like it was going out of style. One more year went by without seeing him. One more year of extreme moodiness. It was the beginning of third grade, when I got some news that I couldn’t quite comprehend. My dad was coming home. Word of this traveled fast because my first grade teacher, Mrs. Collier made me a “Welcome Home Dad!” sign. When he finally came back, I left school early and went to see him and gave him a big hug. I never wanted to let go, I finally got my dad back for good.

Since my dad was back home, I thought all my anxiety would disappear. Boy was I wrong. Over the years, my anxiety has gradually grown, in fourth and fifth grade it wasn’t that noticeable. Doctors prescribed medications and for a while they worked. Middle school came and my anxiety and temper went up, but nothing too alarming. High school came around and my anxiety spiked. The breaking point was Thanksgiving of my sophomore year. It came to the point where I couldn’t even make it through school and I would have to sterilize after doing anything. Finally, I got different medications and things began to level out a little bit and I was becoming normal for once. This experience gave me a new perspective on life and taught me how to survive the struggle. I had a great support circle and several tools provided to me. This will allow me to be able to handle anything and everything thrown at me. When college comes around, or anything for that matter, I’ll know to just step back, take a deep breath and charge on. Life is a struggle, but with the proper tools and guidance, you can make it through anything.