I was born with anxiety but I wasn't diagnosed until I was twelve. I remember as a little kid, having panic attacks when I was alone in my bed at night -though I didn't know what they were back then. I didn't tell anybody about them, and I'm not really sure why. But I continued to have them on and off until I was twelve.
Then I had an incident (that I don't want to get into), and all of a sudden I was having panic attacks several times a day. I couldn't go into my room because I would be hit by a wave of fear; my heart would pound in my chest, I couldn't breathe, and I would start to shake. So for a while I would beg my parents to let me sleep on the couch or in the guest room, and for a while they let me. Then they started to get annoyed so they decided that I needed to be in my room again. My mom completely rearranged my room, 'so I wouldn't be reminded of' that incident. I started by spending 5 minutes every day in there and gradually spent longer and longer periods of time there. Until I was able to spend the night. Eventually, I got comfortable being in my room again, but I was still having several panic attacks everyday. I would come home from school everyday, sit on my bed, and listen to the same songs on my laptop and watch the same show over and over again for months. Basically, I no longer wanted to do anything except sit alone in my room and try not to have a panic attack. Around this time I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (G.A.D.) and Panic Disorder (P.D.), along with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (O.C.D.), because why not? I was having multitudes of panic attacks that led to an overall inability to do anything productive, might as well also have to deal with OCD too- makes sense, right?
Anyway, my doctor told me to go to therapy (I'd already been to a few therapist in the past, but for different reasons), he told me to get more sleep (as if that would happen! Has he met a person with anxiety?), and after visiting him several more times, he finally gave me a (very low) prescription dose of Sertraline that would - get this - start taking effect a few months after I started taking it.
So I continued to live in an absolute nightmare, barely speaking to anyone, barely eating anything, only leaving my room if I had to, and still having several panic attacks a day (I was however going to therapy). At that point, surprisingly, I did start sleeping more (with the help of sleep meds). Sleep had become my escape from the world, and I started to sleep as early as possible at night and wake up as late as possible on the weekends.
After having lived in absolute hell for so long, I became depressed. I was always exhausted (even though I never did anything), I ate even less than I did before, I wore the same clothes half the time, and I would isolate myself, never socializing (even with my family). I felt so lonely, even though I'd wanted to be left alone.
J.K. Rowling described depression as "the absence of being able to envision that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different form being sad. Sad hurts, but it is a healthy feeling. It is a necessary thing to feel. Depression is very different." And that is exactly what it's like.
But I still had the anxiety and panic attacks. It was like feeling everything at once and then nothing at all. I would have a panic attack and feel completely terrified, and as soon as it was over I'd feel nothing at all, until I had another panic attack.
I started fantasizing about falling asleep and just not waking up. Sometimes I wanted to feel something so bad that I would start cutting, because I needed something other than darkness and fear. I even started to plan my suicide. How I'd do it, the notes I would leave for my friends.
Then one of my teachers killed herself.
That loss hit me so hard that I had an actual breakdown, tears and screaming and all. Her death started the conversation between me and my mom about my depression. I found out that my mom had seen the blade in my room, knew what it was for and thrown it out. But she never said anything and I just got a new blade.
I got a new therapist, and after my first appointment, she had tried to get me admitted to a mental hospital, but me and my mom agreed that I wouldn't go, I would just keep going to therapy. Since then, I have struggled a lot, but I'm still alive. And I have my teacher to thank for that.
My teacher's parents came to visit the school, pick up a few of her things, and talk to some of the students. Both me and one of my friends broke down and had to leave the room. She told me about how our teacher had saved her life too. The year before, my friend was cutting and purging, and she had tried to kill herself. That teacher noticed and called her parents, saving her life.
Both me and my friend are alive because of her. We both wish that could have done something to save her too.
Hi, I'm new. Here's my question for you💖
I'm a new person, in need of a friend.
Why can't I tell how I feel?
New here, want support
I'm new here and I have anxiety
