The Prison of Panic

I was 14 years old when I had my first panic attack. It came out of nowhere and hit me like a two-ton truck. For the longest time, I thought I was alone in my panic - if no one else felt it, how could they possibly understand it? This self doubt was further fueled when I finally did open up about it and was met with skepticism by those that were supposed to be my biggest supporters. I never thought I would hear members of my own family tell me to “Just get over it” when the feeling of terror and dread was so real for me.

Today is not only the last day of Mental Health Awareness Month but it’s also my 22nd birthday. I am not just celebrating another year of my life, I’m also grieving the start of my 8th year as an individual who suffers from Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder.

Over the years, the stigma associated with mental health has declined greatly, but it is still far too prevalent. As if being barraged with panic isn’t enough, I’ve also had to defend my predicament to naysayers that would doubt the validity of my claims. This is unacceptable. It took me so long to embrace the reality of my condition for what it was rather than denying it and allowing it to get worse. The last thing anyone in my position should have to deal with is proving themselves to others. When someone is assaulted, society recoils in disgust and treats the victim with compassion. A sufferer of mental illness, on the other hand, does not get this same reaction, even though they feel very much under assault. But, because their assailant cannot be seen or touched, their claims are taken as opinion rather than fact.

I’m not writing this post as a scathing reminder of how awful treatment has been towards the mentally ill in the past or my own personal struggles, but rather as a promise for better times to come. For every person that told me to get over my anxiety and panic, there was also someone that said “I understand. How can I help?”

Eradicating this stigma won’t happen overnight and it may not even happen in my lifetime. But after taking four years of psychology courses and receiving a degree in the field, I know for a fact that we are headed in the right direction and we will get to a place of total acceptance and understanding someday.

Come this fall, I will be going to England (one of the most notoriously resistant countries when it comes to mental health) for my master’s degree. Without the support and guidance I’ve received over the past 8 years, I don’t think I would have had it in me to take on such an immense feat.

It may sound clichéd but, if you’re struggling with mental illness, there is a way through it and the road to recovery starts with telling someone about it. For me, that person was my mom and she met me with love and interest in knowing what was plaguing me. Your confidant may not wholly understand what you’re going through, but as long as they’re willing to try, together you can overcome seemingly impossible tasks. At some point, you may tell someone of your situation and they might have the opposite reaction - telling you it’s all in your head. Just as it’s not their place to denounce your reality, it is not your obligation to prove yourself to them.

There is no cure for mental illness and the truth is that you may very well suffer from it your entire life. So long as you choose to view yourself as a survivor rather than a victim, you can - no, you will - overcome anything. Your mental illness makes up only a small part of who you are - it does not define you.

For mental health hotline numbers, click here. No problem is too small or too great to reach out for help.