Anxiety

The beginning

"I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind." - Dr. Reid

When I first developed anxiety, I was four-years-old. It started with the heat, that burning sensation, and then came the hyperventilating, which at four years old is terrifying I mean I didn't know what was happening, it felt like I was dying. And then I started crying and crying a lot, I mean like full-on crocodile tears type thing. As it turned out, I had a panic attack. Nobody really knows what caused it, just that we know it happened, and we were all hoping it was a one-time thing.

It wasn't, none of us got off easy on that one, once I had another one, everyone was just guessing (Mostly hoping and praying) that it would only be a phase I was going through. None of us got lucky on that guess, it didn't stop, it just got worse as time went on. I had more and more panic attacks, all of them increasing in intensity and being closer together, more frequent.

My parents always thought that I would grow out of it and that I would be back to normal in no time. Expect that "Time" never came. Skip five years to the time I was nine, and they had decided to finally take me to the doctor; they couldn't handle the constant stress and reassurances they had to give me, and I couldn't take the mental prison I was in for much longer.

I wasn't able to control this awful feeling inside me, doing simple things, things I liked to do would make me anxious. My anxiety became something that held me back; it became my crutch. Interfered with my everyday life, it started interfering with my mom's life too, it messed up both of our sleeping schedules because I couldn't fall asleep at night, afraid that I might die in my sleep.

A few weeks after having seen the doctor, I was told that I had GAD or Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I was given medicine that I was to take daily. It was supposed to help me deal with the anxiety and the panic attacks I had every day. I also started therapy, I tried about three different therapists before I found one I was comfortable with. The first one told me not to cry, almost in a judgemental tone, and as a nine-year-old being told not to cry like there was something wrong with it, or something wrong with me because I was in pain kind of did a damper on my self-confidence on how comfortable I was with sharing my thoughts and how anxious I actually was. I never went back to her. I then tried a second therapist a few weeks later, and she was kind, just not for me, we didn't really talk a ton, she just handed me a coloring page and some crayons. That was really it. The third therapist I went to was amazing, she had a million board games, and a giant stuffed bear. We played a board game one week, and then we just sat and talked the next. It was nice, she really helped me a lot, gave me a lot of things I could do to help myself. I owe her a lot of thanks for helping me, even if that is her job.

When I was 10 years old, my parents got divorced, one year after my parents had broken the news to my brother and me, we moved across the country, "we" being my mother, brother and I to live with my mom's new boyfriend and his daughter. A few weeks after this unexpected move, I fell into depression. I mean the type of depression where you can't get out of bed even when your head wants to, but your body can't because you're far to physically exhausted to move. It took me a good three years to get into a proper mental mindset again. And here I am now, a couple of years later, writing this book to share my story and hopefully, along with that to help anybody who's going through a similar struggle.

A few words to somebody going through a difficult time:

I wanted to take a minute to talk to the people going through something to let you know that it gets better. I know everybody says that but it really does, I say that, not as someone trying to encourage others but as someone who used to be in such a dangerous and profoundly depressing mindset. I know what it's like to be there, and over time, it does get better. Slowly, yes, but everything gets better in time. If you need a friend or someone to talk to, please reach out to me, and I'll be there for you. I can try my hardest to be that outlet you so desperately need.

Having said that, if you are having suicidal thoughts or something beyond my talking (typing) ability call the suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255

or if having an emergency, call your country's emergency services.

Hello everybody, this was a little get to know me chapter, and I would like to thank you for reading. (I also hate authors notes, so I'll make this quick) Thank you for reading and contact me through the comments, private messages, or my Instagram account if you need a friend to talk too.

xoxo - Lily