The sole thing that surrounded my disheveled mind in high school were the bathroom stalls. Crouching in a puzzled state, the palms of my hands pooled with sweat, but for no particular reason at all. The room would spin while my hands tingled, my body attempting to frighten me with the possibility of fainting. My heartbeat grew abnormal; from a rapid pulse to palpitations, in a matter of seconds, fooling my sanity, enabling me to believe I was experiencing a heart attack. The “imaginary” weight on my chest was so deliberating, the simplest act of breathing was tiresome. My throat was being clenched by the hands of Anxiety.
Anxiety and I did not meet on good terms. It’s random, destructive approach to my somewhat “normal” teenage life was not only confusing but life-changing. Unwillingly, my mind submerged itself and I became a victim.
I experienced these symptoms 24/7. Not a second passed of hopeful relief. Although healthy and young, my body was undergoing an exhausting battle of physical symptoms, which consequently, began to affect my physical appearance and emotional well being. Unfortunately, my anxiety became so persistent, that my teachers and surrounding peers began to notice my malfunctioning. They were all concerned, offering their help and advice, but not much could be done to alleviate my pain. Compassion unfolded into frustration, as my peers no longer believed my suffering was to the extreme. This resulted in a loss of friendships, broken trusts, crumbled support systems, and the most deadly, loneliness.
My so-called “friends” became the primary root of planting my depression. No longer did I just experience anxiety, but extreme grief and hopelessness clouded my mind and heart each day. Tears consistently traveled down my cheeks, as I felt like a walking corpse. I managed to attend my classes, as my physical body was there, but my mind was nowhere to be discovered. This prompted me to skip days of school, which in turn, progressed into weeks. I went through various therapists in a blink of an eye, and could not form a connection that I felt was purely intended by the therapist, but rather the duty of their job. At this point, a support system no longer existed. I was alone and wished for death.
Fast forward a few months ahead; I was rushed to the emergency room, hanging on my last, brittle thread. I knew I wouldn’t see the sunshine anytime soon. For now, I was drenched in the rain and frightened, but my gut reassured me that it was time to receive the help that I deserved. Admitted to a psychiatric hospital, I began my long journey towards recovery.
Initially petrified to spend some time in a psychiatric clinic, I soon realized that the girls in my unit were experiencing similar problems. In fact, I was exposed to many mental disorders that I did not know existed at the time. Ranging from eating disorders to severe depression, we all shared our stories with one another, in hopes to give each other the strength to make it through each day, away from our families. We grew to acknowledge the struggles of each person, and to accept each person’s presence as a blessing in disguise. Finally, I was surrounded by girls my age who understood the pain I was living with. And although tough for us all, we shared one common goal; to leave the hospital in better condition than we had entered.
While going through my darkest moments of anxiety and depression, I did not believe relief was possible. I was completely against any kind of medication and refused to trust a therapist with my innermost wishes and thoughts, knowing that it would lead to a psychiatric patient status. Releasing such private information would put a halt on my education, and in a sense “delay” my expectations as a teenager. However, reflecting on my journey from this point in time, I most certainly progressed with my life by getting help. If you are currently struggling or hesitant to speak to a therapist or any trusted adult, I assure you that within time, the light will shine at the end of your dark, narrowing tunnel. It may be extremely difficult at first, knowing the “consequences” of expressing your feelings could possibly lead to a medical leave from school, or disappoint such sharing of news to your loved ones. In fact, it seems unrealistic and quite impossible to even fathom such initiated action. But a life consumed by the crippling effects of anxiety and depression is much more impossible to live with. That being said- Share your pain with a trusted adult or friend. Seek the help that your mind is subconsciously begging you for. You will applaud yourself in the end for your perseverance and an immense amount of strength. To motivate yourself to do so, ponder on the following quote I have provided. After reading, you are one step closer to understanding the importance of attaining the help you deserve.
“The unfed mind devours itself.” -Gore Vidal
By: Sarah O, Anxiety In Teens Contributor