By Emily King 

Anxiety has been a daily factor in my life for a long time, the worst aspect being the debilitating anxiety attacks. Years later, I am finally beginning to realise how to make it through them. 

The first time I had an anxiety attack, I was fifteen. In the months leading up to it, I had been feeling strange whenever I hung out with my friends. I was the friend that would be pushed out of conversations, that had to walk behind the group on sidewalks. I was always watching what I said, worrying that it would give them a reason to laugh at me. 

When I stopped sharing something exciting related to the things I liked because they would make fun of me for it, I realised the friendships were no longer healthy. I made the decision to pull away and distanced myself from the people I had been close with for so long. Eventually, they noticed. Things were said and feelings were hurt. I thought it was over, that we would simply never talk again.

That next Monday, the classroom phone rang, and I was told I was needed in the guidance office. Walking in, our guidance counsellor told me that the girls were in her office and wanted to talk. The other girls sat together on one side of the table, while I sat alone on the other. Our counsellor sat next to them. 

For the next hour, I attempted to tell my side of the story. Each time I tried, the girls would interject and share laughs at my expense. By the end of it I sat in tears, my confidence and trust in shambles. They left with smiles on their faces. By the time I made my way to the next class, everyone had heard about what had happened. 

I recall how my breathing changed, making it hard to tell my mom what had happened. I sat shaking, trying to calm myself down, not knowing what was wrong with me. Now, I know I experienced my first anxiety attack that day. But at that point, I didn’t know anxiety was something I struggled with. 

The second attack came as a freshman in college. Everything in my life had just changed. I graduated high school; I watched two of my lifelong pets be put to sleep; the house I had spent my entire life in had just sold. My mom and I were moving to a different state where we knew no one, and I was leaving my aunt that had been a second mother and a best friend to me. Everything and everyone I had ever known was gone in a matter of hours. 

It started the first day I moved into my dorm. I didn’t realise what was happening. One minute I was fine and laughing with Lexi, my roommate; the next I was alone and on the verge of tears. I clenched and unclenched my fists with erratic breaths, not getting why this was happening. I couldn’t keep down food because my stomach was in knots. Like before, I called my mom. I remember telling her that I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to go back home, I wanted my dog that had passed away, I wanted my room, and I wanted my aunt.

The first day of classes I hadn’t eaten much; I felt like I could break into tears at any moment. I don’t remember much of the conversation with my mom that day, but I remember crying when we sat down for lunch. I remember the worry etched onto her features as she tried to understand what was going on. 

The anxiety attacks wouldn’t go away for days. Months after, I realised what had happened to me. Even later, some time after that realisation, I talked with my doctor and got on medication.

The most recent attack took me completely by surprise while at work. I had been juggling three jobs, classes, my thesis, fostering animals, spending time with friends, seeing my mom, and a boyfriend. I had been emotionally and physically drained for weeks. I had submitted my thesis proposal weeks ago and had yet to hear back if it was approved, which meant I hadn’t been able to start writing. I had an article to complete and no sources had got back to me. I had a visual project to do and was not happy with how it was turning out. Friends were asking to see me, and I just didn’t have time. And then there was my boyfriend. 

I had texted him earlier to ask if we could do something that night and was waiting for a response. While overthinking, I got back a text: ‘Not tonight.’ That simple text, even though it was normal, was the tipping point. I was no longer listening to the conversation around me. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t stand still. My eyes began to burn. 

This attack was different. For the first time, I recognised what was happening. My instinct was to talk to someone I knew could help. Lexi calmed me down, telling me to take deep breaths, to remind myself that I was okay, and to not worry about the people around me. For the first time, I was able to walk myself back from the edge and stop the anxiety attack before it happened. 

Much has happened since freshman year. I’ve made friends and lost them. I’ve dated and had my heart broken. I’ve written dozens of papers, each better than the next and have studied hundreds of remarkable people. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. 

Yes, I have gotten better at handling anxiety, but sometimes it is still a struggle. Three years ago, I never would have thought that I could talk myself out of an anxiety attack. But I proved myself wrong. I have learned how to overcome my anxiety through the help of an amazing friend, a loving mom, and medicine. Most importantly, though, was self-acceptance.