And then, out loud, on the dirty floor of my empty dorm room I whispered:
“Oh, my gosh. I hope this is not what I think it is.”
I was terrified, dreading going to speak to someone about something as silly as nerves. I made it this far, right? So why not a little longer? It took me five months to decide I needed to see someone about the sense of dread I felt every night before I went to bed. And the racing heart I had every morning when I woke up. I made it all the way to Ceres Hall to make an appointment before swiftly turning around and scurrying back to my room. Following yet another anxiety attack, I justified trading counseling for a bed and hot tea. After all, I have a bunch of great new friends, I’m passing my classes, I just saw my family and I’m fitting in quite well. Wrong decision.
It took another four whole months, two failed classes, a whole lot of extra seasonal depression and my worst (aka drunk) anxiety attack yet, before I finally decided that I can’t go on ignoring something that is impacting my life to such a tremendous extent.
It is repulsive that society has reduced us to dreading a disease that, according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, is the most common mental illness in the United States. Anxiety affects 40 million adults in the US. That is a whole lot of people. Yet, here we are acting as if it doesn’t exist and praying to God that we don’t have it.
Mental disorders are not something we can see. They aren’t some sort of physical abnormality that can be fixed by someone with an MD and a scalpel. This isn’t a phase. I will not just “Get over it.”
It has been about three months since I was brought to tears in the middle of a crowded room due to an anxiety attack that I couldn’t get under control. It has been roughly two weeks since I had an anxiety attack that caused me to blackout. It has been approximately four days since I had an anxiety attack that required my inhaler, and it has been less than 24 hours since I had an anxiety attack that reduced me to uncontrollable sobbing, tears and hyperventilation.
Being a college student does not make it easy to live with anxiety. In fact, nothing makes living with this disease easy. There are days where I am too panicked to get out of bed and go to that party I was invited to, only to panic more later because, well, what the hell am I missing? It is near impossible to convince yourself to attend classes some days, out of fear of being called on and not knowing what to say. Sometimes it is even too hard to get out of my bed and get the ice cream from the freezer, only to eat it all in bed with a large spoon because there is just too much swimming around in my head.
I’ve attempted everything to try and combat this disease. Drugs, alcohol, lavender baths with soothing music playing in the background, you name it. None of it has cured my anxiety and nothing ever will. The drugs made me drowsy and I never felt like myself. The alcohol made it worse. Even though it slowed things down, I was no longer in control. Lavender baths are great, but baths grow cold and fingers get pruney.
The only methods that have helped my anxiety long term have been therapy and acceptance. The NDSU Counseling Center offers help online by providing questions that help to differentiate between anxiety disorder and normal anxiety levels, suggested reading and general information about this disease.
“As a person who suffered enormously from anxiety and depression, I want to share with people that life can be better,” Mary Guardino, the founder of National Anxiety Disorders Screening Day, said. “Treatment works. Isn’t it time for you to enjoy life?”
It isn’t fair to yourself to ignore something that, if addressed properly, could become extremely more bearable. Nobody wants to have a disease, but if anxiety were a visible disease you would have it treated. Why is this any different?