Hello to all of you out there. Didn't think I'd be back so soon did you? Well I've been going through something the last two days and my boyfriend just reminded me of my love to write and how therapeutic it could be. I also think of the healing power of getting your feelings onto paper and off of your chest, as well as the comforting feeling that maybe someone out there, who is reading this, may share the same experiences as you.
Anxiety. This one word, four syllable, seven letter weight is pretty well known in society these days. It seems everyone is suffering from some form of anxiety and it is heard of so frequently that some people claim most of these self-diagnosed tweets are just calling for attention to fit into a social norm. Others figure that we hear more about it now solely because, unlike the society our parents grew up in, mental health is no longer a topic shied away from but rather something that placed on a pedestal. And the disorders that come with it and the people that come with those are understood and for the most part more openly accepted. Well, in my opinion, I honestly think it is a little bit of both. That's why I think I hate admitting to the fact that I have it. Since I never went to a doctor to be analyzed and diagnosed for it, I feel like whenever I talk about it I can just be lumped in with those few in the world who just say they have it for whatever reason they feel like they do. I am not here to judge those people because I do not know what goes on in their lives just as they do not know what goes on in mine, but people on the internet can be cruel. I truly feel each and every person, since no one has their life 120% completely together, has to have some degree of anxiety because who doesn't have even a sliver of stress. So honestly, I'm sure most if not all of you will understand at least some parts of my experiences with this seven lettered monster.
The first reason I ever felt anxiety, and I honestly feel is the birthplace of mine, is school. I have always been a perfectionist when it came to school with the clawing need inside to be the best at all I did. Now, before you go blaming my parents, imagining the kid with the strictest parents yelling at her if she ever got below an A, think again. Sure my parents were strict on me in the sense that school was important and I was expected to try my best. It is just the difference was that as long as I tried my best they were proud of whatever I could accomplish. My sister and I were never punished if we got a B on a test or failed a quiz as long as we could genuinely tell them that we had studied our hardest and put our best foot forward. They knew we were both hard working, so they believed them when we promised. My parents were amazing when it came to this type of thing, whenever we were struggling in a topic, they were always there trying to help us study or if they couldn't, they would hire a tutor. So, no I can't and won't blame the birth of this ambitious, perfectionist, anxiety ridden girl I had created inside of my head. She was, well is, my own doing.
I had always worked to be the best since I was in the first grade, proud of myself for always making it on the Principal's list and eventually that hard work paid off as I got Salutatorian at my 8th grade graduation. But the anxiety truly began when I started high school, a high school I chose. I went to a school that based its curriculum on preparing it's students for college. The work load was lot, a good portion of the classes were challenging and therefore I did not really have the same high school experience as others did. Part of that was due to me not being a very social person at that age and the other part was that I was obsessed with getting as many As as I possibly could. It became so bad during my Junior year of high school because of college applications and SATs, that I began having panic attacks. They were not very frequent but they were quite scary for someone who had never had them before. My mom, dad, sister, best friend, whoever was near, would always help me through them or comfort me after (I really do have an amazing support system). As morbid as this sounds, most of the time I actually had a really good time in high school. I enjoyed going to classes and hanging out with my friends and going to Glee Club after school, so I don't want you to think I was always racked with anxiety and nerves because I wasn't. I just hated when it would it hit me. When I would have bad anxiety or after a panic attack, I would always think to myself, why can't I be like other people who don't care about their grades or honestly any of the tiny, specific, minute things I worry about on a day to day basis and just live as a care free teenager. Well all that hard work paid off and I graduated top 5% of my class and made it to college as a civil engineering major.
I make myself laugh, now that I think about it. All I wanted was for my life to be more stress-free and I chose one of the hardest majors there are out there. And I honestly have come to realize that that persevering, goal-achieving, ladder climbing, competitive part of myself has thus far always won out against all else, so it seems it was almost inevitable. Thus passed another four years of anxiety and panic attacks sprinkled among amazing memories with friends, fascinating classes, and the unique life experiences I had. In May of 2023, I graduated Magna Cum Laudre and yet again I said to myself it was all worth it because I had reached a goal I had set for myself a long four years before and I was proud of myself for getting there.
Tonight as I write this, I have been self-reflecting on all that I have written and I realize that have I had anxiety? Yes. Do I have anxiety now? Yes, that's what has inspired this post. Will I have anxiety in the future? I'm sure I will. But most importantly, it is ok. It is okay to feel this way because one, no you are not alone. I think back to all my friends in high school and college who were nonchalant about life or at least claimed to be, and I know that even though I envied them I shouldn't have because I am sure they dealt with their own anxieties a certain way or if they genuinely didn't care that was their loss for all that they could've accomplished. Two, do I wish I went about it in a healthier way instead of letting the panic attacks take over or let the smallest assignment or detail about my life cause the anxiety to bubble in my chest? Absolutely, but a small part of me is grateful for the part of myself that pushed me because it helped me reach my goals and helped me understand that I am capable and I care about all that I do. As I sit here, I know I have to work on how I let anxiety control me and work on making myself understand that I don't have to be good at everything and it is okay to make mistakes. I am human after all.
Just remember, as I will remember, to all the people out their who even go through the smallest sliver of anxiety or any other mental distress or disorder, you are important, you are human, and most important, you are not alone.
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