Personal Stories

This is a typical day in my life. I struggle with GAD, panic disorder, agoraphobia, OCD and seasonal depression. My dad has panic disorder and my mom has borderline personality disorder, and chronic depression. I’ve been on the road to recovery for seven months now, but as you’ll see I am not even close to being “normal.” 

I wake up at precisely 5:55 am. If it were not this time, something terrible would most certainly happen. My thoughts are scrambled up, like someone sucked them out of my head, threw them in a blender for a good minute or two, then dumped them back into my head. I can’t breathe. It feels like someone is dunking me underwater. I can’t get a full breath in. After about five minutes, all of this subsides and I lay in bed trying to convince myself to face another day of my battle with anxiety. I have a lot of stress triggers at home so I try to get ready as quick as I can and get out.

Halfway through my drive to school, I realize I didn’t take my medicine. Today will be ruined. I park and start walking to class. “One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six.” Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I get to class. Economics is first. The same 280 ceiling tiles are still there. Good, maybe now I can focus. It’s test day so I grab my earplugs- my best attempt to be able to concentrate on the test. “One, Two, Three, Four” I tap my fingers. “Crap, stop it.” I look up from my hands only to realize that the professor has already started handing out the test. I missed all instructions.

“You can do this Emily,” I tell myself. I breathe in for four seconds, and out for eight, just like my counselor taught me. The earplugs help at first but halfway through my test, the people around me start moving around; they are done. Soon all I can concentrate on is the rustling of everyone’s papers and the thump of chairs being pushed into desks. I’m underwater again, choking. “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, NOW!” my brain screams at me. But I am only halfway through my test. I have lost my focus. I re-read the same question 20 times. Only ten minutes left. I pull out of my backpack my saving grace; my little white friend that dissolves and acts quickly. Peace. I have eight minutes left now. I scramble to finish up the test.

As I leave the room, disappointment sets in. I have done poorly on yet another test. I decide to walk to the library. “One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six.” At the library, I sit down and pull out my math homework. My leg starts bouncing, occasionally hitting the table. People start to stare. “Emily, act normal.” I put a hand on my leg, ashamed. “Number one, Find out the population after ten years, using this circular model.” “Number 10 is a respectable guy. Always calm. I wish I could be like him,” I think. I slowly descend into my world of numbers. 

Some time has passed and I look up at the clock. “Shoot, it’s time for my next class.” I look down at my paper, but no problems have been completed. Oh well. “One, Two, Three, Four, One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six,” “One, Two, Three, Four,” Tap, tap, tap, tap. An ambulance screams nearby. “Dad works near here. What if he has been hurt? What if he’s dead?” My heart starts to jump out of my chest. Thump, thump, thump. I feel like I need to scream. I scramble to pull out my phone and speed dial 2. “Hey puppy, what’s up?” My dad’s familiarity washes over me. Calm. “Hey daddy, I just wanted to tell you ‘I love you’,” “I love you too baby.” “Okay daddy have a good day,” “You too.” Click.

I step into the building and go down the hallway to my class. Behind me are three boys and a girl. The girl’s steps are right behind me. I can see her in my peripheral. “She wants to kill me.” Quick, quick, quick. I walk faster and faster as my heart rate doubles. She turns a corner. Safe. I step in the classroom and take my seat- the one closest to the exit, of course. My psychology professor starts lecturing. It’s only 10 am and I’m exhausted. I do my best to pay attention but it’s no use.

“You’re going to fail college if you can’t focus,” I tell myself as I leave my class. I hurry to math. “One, tap. Two, tap. Three, tap. Four, tap.” I step into the elevator, and four more people follow me. “GET OUT!” my brain screams, as I try to look normal. Everyone is too close. “You’re going to get trapped in this elevator and die.” I accept my fate. Ding! The fifth floor. “Five is a decent guy, a little rude though. He is especially mean to six and seven.”

I grab my seat in math class, close to an exit just like in my psychology class. I never sit in the middle seats; it’s too hard to get out. I could die. I scribble down notes. I am doing my best to pay attention. “12 ceiling tiles by 16 ceiling tiles means 192 ceiling tiles.” “Focus, Emily.” Ten minutes left in class, and the professor pulls out the daily quiz. I scramble to get it done in two minutes. If I am not the first person done, something bad will surely happen.

It’s the end of my school day and I walk to my car. A passerby smiles to me. “He wants to kill you,” my brain informs me. My heart beats quickly. Click, click, click. I lock the doors three times, just in case. I rush home to take a nap.

Exhausted, I sleep for 40 minutes. I wake up and hear someone in the other room. I reach out and touch my BB gun I keep by my bed. The cold metal is comforting. My breaths become shallow as I slip out of bed and peek around the corner. “Be careful, there’s a killer out there.” “Hey Emily, I’m home,” my sister calls out. Phew.

I rush around the house like a Tasmanian devil, cleaning. Sweep. Dishes. Wipe the counters. Vacuum. Straighten the couch. Laundry. Finally, I can start my homework. I sit down and try to focus my mind. My to-do list swirls through my head. I get that math homework done after two hours. It should have taken thirty minutes, tops. Mom and Dad are home now, with the boys. “I’m going to take an online quiz,” I call out to them. Sitting at the computer, I start my timed quiz. Reading through the questions, I start to panic. I don’t know the answers. Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! I hear my family eating nearby. The noise from the TV is amplified. I feel like my drowning; I can’t breathe. I feel an overwhelming need to get out. Time on my quiz is ticking away. I have 14 minutes left and I’ve done one whole question. “You’re never going to finish.” I hurry, flipping through my book, trying to find the answers. Five minutes left. Eight questions left. Three minutes. Six questions left. I randomly answer them. The quiz ends and I check my score. 70%. “I’m a failure.”

My anxiety is still soaring, so I’ve lost my appetite. “I’m going to bed,” I tell my family. I sink into my bed and try to silence my mind. “You’re going to fail college. Your family is going to hate you. They will die. You have no friends. You suck.” Finally my mind slips away and it all goes black. 

Thank you for taking the time to read all of this. I know it’s a lot. For 18 years, I lived too ashamed of my troubles to get help. Finally, I am getting help but every day is a struggle. I am in intensive therapy and two types of medicine. While it may not all go away, I hope that one day it will become manageable. 

 

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