Since starting my blog, quite a few of you have reached out to me asking about my personal story dealing with mental health, so I thought that today would be a good day to consolidate my experiences and thoughts about my journey.
It all starts out in seventh grade when something changed. I used to enjoy going to school every day, but when I opened my eyes in the morning, the thought of having to go through a full day of interactions and learning didn’t excite me anymore. It terrified me. I had spent the last eight years of my life taking the school bus back and forth each day, but suddenly it was difficult to walk out the front door to get on it. My mother would stay with me until I felt ready to go, and then she would have to drive me into school since the bus would be long gone by then. During that year, I gradually changed from the know-it-all in class to the girl who would never raise her hand. Once loud and outgoing, I had lost my voice.
Fast forward to my sophomore year of high school, I began racking up absences. My mother would take me to the doctor, but the diagnosis was always “allergies” of all things. I was furious. There was something going on that health professionals couldn’t see, and they dismissed any comments I made about my condition. They just looked at the physical signs that they could outwardly see without really focusing on my internal status. “Drink more water.” “Take some vitamin B.” “Cut out dairy.” I heard it all. I tried it all. Nothing worked.
This cycle of in and out of doctor’s offices continued through the rest of high school and trailed behind me into college. My transition to independence was going well at first, but then I went out for lunch with my parents. We began talking about everything that I had been up to, and what was coming up in the future. Then panic set in. I had to excuse myself and ran outside. I began to pace around the parking lot as nausea boiled up, my body shook, and my face struck a record pallor. My parents shortly followed me out of the restaurant after they had paid. I can’t even begin to imagine what state I was in when they stumbled upon me. My mom was quick to grab an ice pack from the car, and I rested it along my neck to give myself stimulation from the outside world for grounding purposes. After the drive back, a friend asked me to hang out. However, being able to claim “a migraine” got me out of my obligations. At this point in time, I couldn’t put my finger on what was making me so ill.
The next semester rolled around, and all seemed to be well. I had a real friend group. I was taking my first nursing class, and college began to feel like home. One night, I woke up in shock. It was approximately 2:00 AM. My body was shaking uncontrollably, and I felt sick to my stomach. I grabbed an ice pack from my freezer to calm me down, but my state grew worse. I held off as long as I could, but I decided that I needed help. I called my parents and they picked me up. I spent that sleepless night at home with racing thoughts. In the morning, my mother took me to the doctor again. This time I thoroughly explained how this was a recurring event, and that I didn’t think that it was physical. The doctor that I saw said that it was most likely anxiety related. However, I was told to come back in another few months if it persisted. Even though I may have found my answer, the healthcare system dropped me off at another dead end without help. Knowing that anxiety could be the umbrella over my wellbeing, I began to exercise more and visited my university mental health center. Still, nothing worked quite right for me.
After a whole year of college, I was still in the dark. I didn’t really understand my own body and my limits. In the summer, I decided to enroll in two organic chemistry courses, a chemistry lab course, and work twenty-five hours a week at my university. That’s when it all really began to unravel. Negative thoughts purged my optimistic demeanor. My professors said due to the acceleration of the course, I would have to study in any spare moment I got, and I really took that to heart. Downtime seemed like a luxury, and I could feel the threats of failure treading lightly in my shadow. Coming up to my first set of finals, panic set in. I couldn’t eat. It was difficult to sleep. Nevertheless, I persevered. When it came time for my second term of summer classes, I was expecting my body to bounce back from the anxiety it had faced. I wouldn’t have any tests for a few weeks, so there wasn’t much to stress about, but I had lost myself. I couldn’t get back to my full health again. I had lost a large amount of weight through my condition that summer, but the weight of anxiety persisted.
Finally one night, I couldn’t sleep. I could barely breathe. It felt like someone had set a ton of bricks on my chest and around my throat. I got up from my bed and decided to walk around for a bit. I walked up and down the six flights of emergency stairs seven times, but I couldn’t feel anything. I was numb. I returned to my room and sat in bed until I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I attended class and then called in sick for work. I returned home once again and visited the doctor’s office for what seemed like the hundredth time. At this point, I had lost all hope. However, to my surprise, help was just around the corner. A nurse practitioner greeted me to the clinic and handed me a survey over my mental wellness. After a few minutes of him inspecting my responses, my answer was set in concrete: anxiety disorder. That same day, I was able to pick up a prescription for my condition and start my road to recovery. After finishing out the summer, and transitioning into fall, I was able to transfer onto a proper dosage and begin to feel myself again. Although medication isn’t the answer for everyone, it was a holy grail for me.
Throughout my journey, I had such a wonderful support system of family and friends. I am so grateful for my parents always being there for me when I really needed it. If you ever think that your mental health is taking a hit, don’t be afraid to ask for help. Even though it took many trips to the doctor to figure out what was wrong, it only takes one understanding healthcare provider to really make a huge difference. Even though this was a difficult journey, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. I have learned so much about the suffering that others go through, especially through the healthcare system, and I want to change that. After college, I plan on pursuing a job as a nurse in a child psychiatry unit to help those that may be at the lowest part of their life. Mental health is a field that still requires a lot of change, and I want to ensure that no one falls between the cracks when considering the care of potential illnesses. Here’s to a life of advocating for the wellbeing that others deserve.
Comentarios