The steady beep of my alarm wakes me up this morning. I open my eyes and stare at the lit fairy lights lining the corners of my ceiling. I grab my phone and shut it off, my finger lingers on the cracked phone screen before I shove it to the side. Monday morning-I need to get up. I need to get dressed. I need to go. But I can’t. Tears prick at my eyes and my stomach twists. You can’t go, they’ll say things, my brain whispers. You can’t go, the teachers will just laugh and plot. That’s not true, it can’t be true. It’s a teacher's job to help not judge. ‘GO!’ I tell my brain, I tell my legs, my body. GO! But I don’t. Instead, tears stream steadily down the sides of my face to my pillow, the light grey pillow that will no doubt turn dark grey where the tears will fall. My mom knocks on my door but I don’t say anything. I roll over and hug the pillow to hide my tear streaked face. I hear the door open and then a sigh. Disappointed. The disappointed sigh. The door shuts behind her. Anxiety wins again.

My anxiety became noticeable my freshman year of high school, at first it started off small, just nervous shakes, and then it became a real problem my junior year. I’m not sure what triggered it, what set me into my downfall of anxiety, but between the months of October and January I was plagued with anxiety attacks so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed.

They came as three different kinds of panic attacks; a constant fidget of my hands where I felt like if anybody touched me I would crumble, hyperventilation where it feels like I can’t catch my breath so I take in breaths at a quick pace, and lastly, the attacks where I can’t do anything but cry. These, personally, feel like the worst. You cannot tell I’m having a panic attack, it looks like I’m just having a rough day, but deep down, so much more is going on. My brain becomes my enemy. Anxiety; fear of the future.

Through these few months I missed around 50 days of school, fell so far behind in classes to the point where I had a 9% in one class. To think about the school I was missing, the assignments I was falling behind in, and the affect these things would have on me for my future only made my anxiety worse. It got to a point where I had approached my mom about dropping out of school.

I’m not sure when I decided that I wanted to change things, it was sometime in January when I woke up and decided I was tired of teachers being surprised I showed up to class, tired of the jokes students would make when they saw me walk in. This was not who I was, I wanted more for myself.

The change started slowly, I gathered the assignments I was missing and had them written down, then I gathered the actual assignments and slowly I started, but then March came and I had to undergo a surgery for my knee, which caused me to miss more school. Anxiety became an enemy again, but this time I was determined not to let it drag me down. I came back to school four days after my surgery even though the doctor recommended me staying home for the week.

Through March my attendance became constant, I tried to miss the least amount of school possible, I was spending my nights catching up on work, my study halls writing essays that were way past due, weekends were devoted to projects that needed to be done. I became overwhelmed but I wasn’t going to stop until I could breathe again, and I wouldn’t be able to breathe until I was all caught up.

School ended June 14th, 2017 and at home waiting for me was my report card with my display of effort the few months from January to March. I had ended my junior year with honors, one b holding me back from high honors.

As I write this it makes it sound easy but it wasn’t, I had my setbacks. There were my good days where I knew I could do it and my bad days where I didn't think I could get anywhere, but I slowly worked at it and here I am now. I still have my setbacks but like then, i'm working on it.

Anxiety tugged me down to the point where I felt I was drowning, but determination helped me surface and catch my breath.