My Anxiety, and How I Overcame It
I've struggled with anxiety since third grade. I remember my first panic attack vividly: sitting in the back of the car, all the windows down, a sea-band cutting off my circulation because dear God I was going to throw up, oh my God, and later that night, falling asleep on the bathroom floor with tears drying on my skin, because I couldn't understand what was going on. In the weeks after that, I went home early at least twice a week, every week, because I got horrible panic attacks, and I couldn't understand them well enough to realize what they were, and that, if I just took a few breaths, got a breath of fresh air, I could make them manageable again. All I understood was that my stomach hurt so bad, so of course I had to go home.
I was never actually diagnosed. I didn't have to be. My dad has been suffering from anxiety for his entire life, and he has it much worse than I do. My parents knew the signs. I had them. (My dad is on medication for his. That was never an option for me. Drugs in all forms terrify me. So I was on my own in that department.)
Strangely enough, it was my mom who taught me my coping mechanisms. (It's understandable. For a long time, I didn't like talking about anxiety. I guess my dad doesn't either.) Her advice was: take deep breaths, breathe slow, and keep reminding yourself that you're okay. Which, looking back, worked a lot better then than it does now.
(Picture little third grade me, no friends, sitting in the back of the class, knees to my chest behind a school desk, whispering I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, and you've got the picture. Looked pretty sad, but it was effective.)
In time, I stopped leaving school early. With practice, I slowly got used to the things that used to scare me. I slowly became more comfortable with myself. The stomach aches became bearable, then faded away for the most part.
I'm still terrified of public speaking, and I have a crippling phobia of being late to anything. I double- and triple-check everything I do, and never break a rule, because I'm scared of authority, and of people I look up to being disappointed in me. I don't think most of those will ever go away. But I'm managing. I have a great group of friends who are incredibly understanding, and a family that supports me through everything I do. I'm secure in the knowledge that, if it gets bad again, they'll always be there to pull me back.
But I don't think it will. I've come to like myself, and the things I've feared don't seem so big anymore. If trouble comes, I'm confident that I can handle it. I'm okay.