Personal Narrative: My Personal Experience With Anxiety Disorder

Living with anxiety is a battle everyday. I wake up and I’m not sure if today will be good or bad. It can start out good, but the next thing I know, I’m having a panic attack. The world around me starts to cave in, and the noise I hear becomes static; it’s as if I’m being swallowed whole. Suffering from a panic attack is incredibly embarrassing. Nobody understands what I’m going through, they all think it’s in my head or that I’m being dramatic. What they don’t understand is that, it’s a real problem. Just like any other illness, anxiety is paralyzing; so are panic attacks. There are days I don’t want to get out of bed because I’m afraid that today is the day everything will end, so it’s just safer to stay in bed. My anxiety is unpredictable,

That was the phrase that had been assaulting my ears for the last half an hour. Although it wasn’t odd that someone was telling me that specific phrase, this time it was different. My grandmother, whom I thought had understood my problems, had just proven to me that she actually didn’t. At the age of 12, I was heartbroken.

On our way up the stairs to our unit, a girl named Jada came up behind me. “So why are you here?” I was thrown off by the personal question she asked so casually. Only an hour prior I had arrived at the facility and was introduced to the other eleven teenagers.

When my anxiety disorder subdued I felt like a new person, and I took advantage of my new found self during my

Hello! I’m so excited to be back. Oh how I’ve missed writing! This post will be more of an update on what has happened these last few months, so, lets get started. After getting out of Rogers Memorial Hospital for my OCD and Anxiety, I had one week home and then I went right off to college. It was a pretty scary step for me. Just a few months earlier I couldn’t handle anyone mentioning the word “school”, let alone actually attend. But that is exactly what I did, and surprisingly, I felt ready.

When I first came to America, I was bullied because I was different, and judged of every action so I could be mocked by the way I behaved. I used to have no problems asking where the bathroom is, and I didn’t care about my accent or grammar as long as I got the message across. But years growing up in a tiny Southern town, unaware of the existence of the Asian race, molded me into a different person. I was, and still, fearsome of social situations, as little as asking someone in class for a pencil. I could never ask for help because I was afraid what will happen during the process, or after. In my head, I’d imagine instances where my voice could crack while asking, the class could go silent focusing their attention onto me, or worse, finally having the courage to ask, but it turns out the person I asked had rejected my request. This personality of mine is so painful at times, I considered it as a disorder. I was always stuck in between this thick social barrier; I couldn’t approach anyone, always the one waiting to be approached. But, unlike the silent students who are great scholars, I was never a great student myself, and I suffered immensely. When it was time for group projects, I was always the fatboy in PE, having the teacher assign me to a random group. I’ve been trying to overcome this social anxiety by forcing myself to talk to new people,

All my life, I have suffered from generalized anxiety disorder, which can make it difficult to do mundane tasks and educational requirements. For example, giving speeches, taking exams and quizzes, and having to communicate with other students that I do not know. I have been sheltered most of my life, which causes things that would be considered basic to other people to scare me. After analyzing my anxious tendencies, I came to the conclusion that the root of my anxiety comes from having seperation anxiety from my Mother after my Father passed away, which made me scared to talk to people, resulting in speech anxiety. My main fear with my speech anxiety is that I will receive a bad grade on my speech or not do well enough academically. I strive

Although there is a plethora of mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety, and alcoholism that run rampant in my family; I never spoke about mental illness with either of my parents until I was diagnosed with social anxiety, OCD, and panic disorder at 18. At that age I wasn’t even aware that anxiety was more than just feeling nervous or that it was a treatable diagnosis. After describing the symptoms of what I now know to be a panic attack to my general doctor, she referred me to a psychiatrist who prescribed me three pills, two were for anxiety, and one which was for my panic attacks.

When I was about twelve, I self diagnosed myself with anxiety. I was at a river in Austin with my mom and my two aunts. At that age, I was insecure about everything that had to do with my body. “Come on, get in!” I heard my over enthusiastic aunt yell from the dirty, brown water. I wanted to get in, but my mind was telling me, “Everyone is going to think your body is ugly”, and “Don’t get in, just sit and wait for them to come back”, so that’s what I did.

What will it take for them to realize what truly goes on inside our brains. Sticking out like a sore thumb or a lost shoe in the center of the highway. Anxiety is like not being able to breathe even being outside. I wish I could somehow explain the science behind how they make me feel. I got my first dose of anti-depressants when I was twelve years old. An artificial happiness that “worked”. The drugs never worked. But doesn’t mean a goddamn thing about being depressed! Sometimes the medications didn’t work because I was already happy, but people have to dig deeper to find out what the problem is. When someone takes their own life, how are we supposed to react? Are we supposed to think it’s just sad? Taking your own life is an ugly side of

My heart beats with ferocity as I nervously wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I quickly take in my surroundings and think to myself, “I hate the doctor’s office.” I know my face is covered with a look of worry; it is impossible to conceal. My mother attempts to silently console me, glancing in my direction with a half smile. She is acting as if everything is perfectly fine. Her anxious eyes give away her true feelings, but I make an effort to smile back and mask my emotions. I know she is being positive and praying for the best. I am preparing myself for the worst.

¨ Good Good... my mom and I went to the museum and went shark watching.¨

Of course I was the first to be called up to give my introduction speech! Perhaps because my professor knew me so well? Who knows… but I was actually glad that I was chosen first because I get to set the bar without having to worry about competing with the previous speeches. So with that positive mindset, my anxiety levels were really low. On a scale from one to ten I’d say I was a solid two! As soon as I was about to speak I observed my audience, their faces, movements, and eyes. All the attention was on me and I got right into my zone.

Anxiety ended my life 5 years ago along with its friend fear. They entered my life like a light switch and as time went on they became a monster, ruined my life and created a girl who was fearful to do basically anything. and they took control and became in charge of my body and mind. They took things I wanted to do and didn't do. They became my worst enemies. They still linger after all these years I tried to fight them off but before I knew it there power outweighed my strength. I'm not living, I'm just existing. I have missed out on so much. Time with family, time with friends. Birthday parties, graduations etc.. and even my own life goals. Getting my license, and going to college. Once I got sick with Lyme disease back in 2012 and had to

Excited- very enthusiastic and eager. This is how I felt on the morning of October 23rd, 2015. We didn’t have but two classes together so I couldn’t be nervous or I wouldn’t be able to ask. I just had to be a man and get over my anxiety. We had English and study hall together and that is when I knew I had to take action. I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest with anxiety.