I had unbearable anxiety in high school. My parents refused to get me help, and my pediatrician told me that everyone has stress.
My anxiety wasn’t like the anxiety that normal people experienced.
It took over my home life, my school life, and my personal life in general.
In my home life, I would lay awake for hours because of a minuscule thought that played like a tape on repeat.
In school, I would scratch and poke the underside of my arms to the point it was red so my negative thoughts would stay at bay. Sometimes I felt I was in an underwater tank listening inside out.
In my personal life, I’d think of death and suicide because those thoughts were better than my worries. I was going crazy, but my parents said that I should tell my problems to them. That didn’t help because they grew tired of the same worries, and told me to get over it.
Telling me to get over something, is like telling me not to think of the pink elephant in the room. I will think of the pink elephant in the room, if you tell me not to.
The turning point that resulted in getting help was when I collapsed in front of my sophomore English teacher and my friends when I was filming a segment for a Channel One competition I planned on entering. I fainted. My friend took me to the nurse’s office which resulted resulted in me actually getting help for my anxiety for the first time.
Even though, the collapse was ridiculous, it was a start of a series of therapist visits I would have for the next six years.