My struggle with mental health began long before I even realized what was going on. It started my freshman year of college. I was starting a new school that frankly I didn’t even want to attend, and I only knew a handful of people. On top of all that I would be commuting to school, and I realize now that this was definitely one of the main contributors to the stress I dealt with my freshman year of college. Commuting from home to school wouldn’t have been as bad if I had a car back then, which I didn’t. So instead of getting to and from campus, which would normally take around 30 minutes with a car, turned into an hour to two-hour commute, and this was just one way. It was incredibly difficult to adjust to this since I was fortunate enough to get a ride to school and back home when I was in high school. I also realize now that this might not be a significant deal for some people, and that commuting is not regarded as that serious or that stressful of an issue, but it was incredibly difficult for me.
What was even worse than attending a university I greatly despised and dreaded going to was that I was taking classes for a major that I could barely tolerate. I started university as a biology major due to my parents expecting nothing less than me becoming a doctor. So this of course just made everything ten times worse, and although I went to an academic high school, I wasn’t prepared for how difficult some introductory science courses were. All of these factors played an incredibly huge role in my mental health and were merely building blocks to the anxiety that would soon consume my personal and school life later on.
At this point, I was just dealing and coping with my stress, and I wouldn’t say that I dealt with any anxiety issues yet. However, fast forward to my sophomore year and here is where it all started going downhill. I had just returned from a spring break vacation to California, which would be the most fun and enjoyment I would experience in the next coming months. When I got back from California, I was fine for a couple of days until one day I went to my professor to ask him why I bombed my chemistry exam. It’s crazy to think back now that I remember vividly everything about that day, down to what color hoodie I was wearing and the two girls that were also in line to talk to the professor. On my way to the professor, I felt vehemently sick and had to essentially force myself to go through with it and talk to him about my exam grade. After that, everything was kind of a blur. Those coming weeks I would visit countless doctors, spend an excruciatingly long night in the ER of a hospital that ended up discharging me without a proper diagnosis, and skip tons of class. The lectures that I did have to attend were absolutely torturous, and often I would end up feeling so sick to the point that I would walk out in the middle of class. This went on for quite a while until a miraculous doctor figured out what was wrong with me. So this is where I mistakenly thought things would look up for me, as I took my prescribed treatment and felt somewhat physically better than before. I was ready to turn a new leaf after ending up with below average grades that semester and my social life had gone down the drain, so I was ready for the summer and ready to forget everything that had happened.
Now, one might be thinking what my story has anything to do with mental health and anxiety, and this is where it begins. I had had an amazing summer, physically I felt great, and of course, since I wasn’t in school I wasn’t stressed. Then as soon as I started school, my worst nightmare happened. I was still commuting at this point and was still technically a biology major, so my stress returned with a vengeance. With the stress returning, so did feeling ill. I remember sitting in class and feeling sick to my stomach and then thinking, “Oh okay this might go away”, but it didn’t. It got so bad to the point where I was feeling so sick that I would leave in the middle of class, and some of my lectures were held in small classrooms. So naturally I would walk out and I could feel stares piercing back, which was always later followed with countless questions like “What’s wrong with you?” or “Why did you leave class again?”. What was worse than not having an answer for my peers’ invasive questions was not having an answer for myself.
It took me a very long time to realize that my “sickness” or feeling ill was due to my overwhelming levels of anxiety that would consume me anytime I was in a classroom or in a lecture. This was made especially worse when I was about to take an exam, no matter how prepared I was for it. It was also especially worse when I was in a small classroom because I would feel like I couldn’t leave and thus this would result in feeling anxious. I dealt with this for a very long time and didn’t tell anyone because I really didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t know that my commute to school and that attending class was physically making me sick. I didn’t know a mental health problem could physically affect me. My story isn’t one where things started to look up immediately and turn for the better. I dealt with anxiety and it’s exhausting physical effects on me for the rest of that semester and the next.
It wasn’t until this past semester that my anxiety started to ease up, and so I didn’t feel that physically ill anymore. However, I contribute this to two major things in my life: changing my major and changing how I commuted to school. During the first weeks of school, I made the decision to declare my major, and not as biology, but psychology, which was what I knew I always wanted to study. In addition to that I finally had a car, so what was a two-hour commute every day before turned into around thirty minutes. It’s bewildering to think about how something seemingly common as a routine change could affect my lifestyle. I was no longer cutting class, and I was actually able to sit through a lecture and enjoy what I was learning. Although my anxiety didn’t completely go away, it was slowly fading.
Looking back at all this now, I realize that I should’ve tried to seek help sooner and so if at least I didn’t know what was going on, a mental health professional could have figured it out. I would definitely have sought out someone that I could have talked to since at my university and at most universities, there are countless counselors available to help students. I did deal with my anxiety by myself, which is something I would not recommend to anyone and it is something I regret. To anyone who is struggling with any sort of mental health illness out there, whether it be depression or anxiety, make it your goal to talk to someone about what you are going through. Odds are someone else is going through the same thing and although it might seem daunting, seeking professional help or even taking small measures first and talking to a friend about it can make a significant positive difference in your life. I know it would have in mine.
By: Fatima Shaban, Anxiety In Teens Contributor