Most of the things I’ve written in my life are either about anxiety or because of it. I guess it’s my own way of trying to find an explanation to something that can’t really be explained. You may say I have a love/hate relationship with her. I know personifying it is not necessarily a good thing, but this is one way I try to cope with it. I’ve been struggling with anxiety ever since I was a child. To me, it’s pretty funny when someone says that dealing with my anxiety is not a walk in the park. Well, yeah, I know, I’ve been working with her ever since I could remember. Nevertheless, I will admit that, even though I’ve learn to dealt with it, she’s always there keeping me on my toes. There are some days I know why I am anxious and how to fix it. There are other days in which I simply don’t, I just know she’s there, lurking. If you’ve met me, it won’t be difficult for you to notice: it’s written on my face, it’s not that difficult to tell that something is not letting me be myself.
I’ve written about my constant fear of losing control and how terrifying is to be in a panic attack. I am well aware that I learn something with every panic attack I have, or, at least, that’s what I tell myself in order to face the next one. I do this simply because feeling sorry for myself is no longer an option. I try my best to not be angry at myself for not “keeping it together,” but sometimes it is very difficult not to. I can’t keep being so hard on myself because of this. I have to focus on the bright side, even if all the walls surrounding my mind are painted pitch black.
On a normal Tuesday afternoon I was unable to keep it together. My car was parked. I was right in the middle of a panic attack, unable to breathe, and trying to find my way back to reality. I was concentrating on anything I could feel or hear in order to simply ground myself and step away from the deep black hole that I get sucked into. I was telling myself that the worst part was almost over. I kept telling myself: “You’ve got this, we’ve been through this so many times.” Time got slower and slower. Anxiety was at her peak, whispering: “Maybe this time you will stay trapped.” I swear to God, breathing became too difficult. I made it through, thanks to a stranger who was walking by and recognized the struggle. I don’t know his name, and I haven’t seen him since. I hope that by some miracle you read this.
So, dear stranger, I was trapped in a panic attack, and you reminded me that I am free. It feels nice for a total stranger to look you in the eyes and say, “Breathe, you’ve got this. Just breathe.” I hope that every person who struggles with mental illness is reminded by their surroundings that they are strong enough and not defined by this. So, if you, fellow struggler who is reading me, haven’t been told, allow me:
Breathe. Be strong and believe in yourself. You’ve got this.
“Swim for brighter days despite the absences of sun.” – Jack’s Mannequin, Swim.
*the rest of the pictures are from Pinterest*
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In light of Suicide Awareness Week, we will provide our readers with articles displaying a narrative of thought, self-reflection, and reality of the emotions, actions, and struggles we as students feel but at times fear how the people around us will react. If you or a loved one are going through a difficult time, you’re not alone.
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