Some nights as I fall asleep, it feels as if there are bubbles surrounding my head: each filled with an anxiety threatening to burst.  And they always do.  If I look too closely or too long at one bubble, it pops and the anxiety inside of it crashes upon me.  Once one pops, a domino effect occurs; popping is suddenly all I hear and the kaleidoscope of thoughts in my head is in front of me, each vying for a moment of my attention.

This is what anxiety feels like for me.  It is my cross to bear.

I have experienced anxiety for as long as I can remember.  My parents tell stories of how I threw tantrums in my adolescent years because I knew that we were going to be late to an event. School was no different. Any assignment big or small had to be perfect, or I knew that something terrible would happen. I did not know what form the terrible occurrence would take, just that it was imminent unless I was perfect.

It was not until my junior year of high school that I realized that these feelings might be out of the ordinary. That summer, I had been working as a research assistant in the Psychiatric Department of the University of Michigan.  I had experienced feelings of inadequacy all summer because of my youth and inexperience compared to my coworkers. This caused me to obsess over all of the work that I did and analyze every minute detail of the interactions in which I participated. Eventually, I began to experience panic attacks at work and at home.  One of my most vivid memories from this time is when I realized that I had messed up one of the weekly mailings.  I remember thinking that my boss was going to be so disappointed in me, and I knew that she would now regret hiring a junior in high school.  My emotions and thoughts became a tornado in my mind, and I did not feel the attack creeping up until I was already in the throes of panic.  My body was telling me that I needed to escape: to leave this horrible place of failure and never return.  Unable to leave in the middle of the work day, I hid in my cubicle and prayed to God that no one would notice me in my shamed state.

Panic attacks are different for everyone, but for me they feel like the culmination of my baseline anxiety.  It is basically my everyday anxieties coming at me all at once.  I often do not even realize that a panic attack is coming until I am in the middle of it.  My heart starts pounding and I have to remind myself to breathe.  Time slows and all I can do is fight for the next moment.  I feel so much and yet nothing at all.  After a panic attack, I am so emotionally and physically drained that I am forced to stop what I am doing and rest until the feelings subside.    
This is what anxiety feels like for me.  It is my cross to bear.

After a few of these episodes, I confided in my mother about what I was experiencing.  She immediately set up an appointment for me to talk with a psychiatrist about what was happening to me.  At that first appointment, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety and Panic Disorder.  I was prescribed Celexa, an antianxiety medication.  Just acknowledging that there was something that was wrong and needed to be fixed helped me immensely.  I was able to understand more about myself, what I was feeling, and why.

Anxiety was my cross to bear, but I realized that I could cope with it.

That is, until the summer after I graduated from high school. 

My senior year had been great.  My classes had not been too hard and I was accepted into my dream school.  I was flying high; that is until I realized that I would be leaving my family and friends in a couple of months.  The thought of being on my own in a new place was terrifying for me.  I began to have panic attacks more frequently and could barely sleep at night.

I thought that I was the only one feeling like I did, as friends did not talk about how anxious they were to leave home for the first time.  All we talked about was how excited we were for novel experiences and new people.  The closest we got to talking about our worries was jokingly stating that we were going to miss our dogs more than our siblings or how we did not know what we would do without our mothers doing our laundry. 

I thought that that it was just me.

That it was just my anxiety, and therefore was my cross to bear alone.

And therefore I felt more alone and isolated than I ever had before.

It was not until I started seeing a therapist weekly that I was able to see that my feelings were not out of the ordinary.  In fact, a recent study stated that “a growing body of evidence suggests that [Separation Anxiety] symptoms are experienced by a significant number of young adults .”  In fact, in that same study over 21% of participants reported feeling the symptoms of anxiety in their first semester of college.  I now realize that when leaving home for a new way of life, it is natural for a person to experience periods of doubt and worry.  My anxiety disorder only exacerbated the normal feelings associated with going to college.  I wish that I had been confident enough in myself at that point to talk about my feelings with my friends, because I believe that such conversations would have revealed that they were experiencing similar issues.

My summer of anxiety and goodbyes flew by, and suddenly I arrived at the University of Michigan.  Moving into my dorm room was a discombobulating whirlwind that did not cease until I was waving to the bumper of my family’s ever-receding SUV.  What I had been dreading was suddenly upon me.  The coping mechanisms that my therapist and I had been practicing all abandoned me in my hour of need. 

That first weekend was one long, drawn-out panic attack.  I went through the motions: going to the prescribed welcome activities; attending my first frat parties; and introducing myself to every single person that came across my path.  I tried to put on a brave face so that no one could tell, but internally my body was telling me that catastrophe was imminent.  I cried a couple of times and barely slept.  My brain kept screaming at me to call my parents to pick me up.  It was a prolonged internal battle in which one side, the rational side, knew I had to stay but, the invading anxiety was telling me to escape as fast as I could. 

I honestly do not know how I made it through that weekend. 

All I knew was that though anxiety was my cross to bear, I could not let it control me.

My experiences are not unusual.  Life with an anxiety disorder can be difficult at times.  A study at Abilene University stated that “Sociotropic persons displayed the classic symptoms of ‘homesickness’ in that they were more likely to be preoccupied about home and display depressive symptoms after the transition to college .”  A common characteristic of anxiety disorders is sociotropy, or excessive anxiety about interpersonal relationships.  Thus, anxiety disorders make people more likely to have a difficult transition to college. 

Transitioning to college has been one of the hardest things that I have ever done.  Slowly, however, life has become better.  Classes started, I joined clubs, and made actual friends.  After learning to cope with the hardships of my new life, my panic attacks abated to fewer and farther between.  I became comfortable in my surroundings after realizing that I would be able to undertake the college experience and thrive through the help of my family, friends, and therapist.  On campus, I have met so many students that have similar issues as I do, which inspires me when I see them go on to accomplish so much every day.

An anxiety disorder is a cross to bear, but I will not let it dictate my life.

In one of my high school English classes we read East of Eden by John Steinbeck.  In the story, the wisest character says “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good ”. I remember reading this sentence over and over again, goose bumps raised on my arms.  It seemed so profound to me, and I found myself writing it over and over again in my notebooks.  It was not until later that I came to associate the quote with my own experience of anxiety. Facing my anxiety disorder has forced me to realize that as much as I strive for perfection, it is unattainable. Instead of expecting perfection, I can only expect my best.  My best will be what I am: flawed yet real; and that is okay.  And now that I do not force myself to be perfect, I can be good- a good daughter, sister, friend and student.  I have learned that my anxiety allows me to empathize with people in ways that others cannot. Through therapy I have learned a unique type of problem-solving and view of the world.  I have been privileged enough to help some of my closest relations through very tough times because I am able to empathize and help others work through their own problems.  Because of such experiences, I have decided to pursue a career in psychiatry in order to help others with mental health disorders reach their full potential, just as I have been helped.

If my anxiety disorder allows me to help those around me to thrive in their own lives, then my cross is something that I will gladly bear.