It's taken me a long time to come up with the courage to write about this, considering anytime you mention anything about your anxiety, you're met with eye rolls and people saying, "Just calm down, you'll be fine." But after having a panic attack set in earlier this week, I've decided that this needs attention. More people need to hear the truths of anxiety and panic disorders in order to understand them. No matter how uncomfortable talking about my anxiety makes me, there are people I don't even know that could benefit from me writing this.

Anxiety disorders are the most common mental illness facing our country today. In fact, the Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA) estimates that approximately 40 million people in the U.S. ages 18 and older have an anxiety disorder, yet only one third of those suffering are treated. That's almost 27 million people who try and fight this horrible battle on their own. So why do we as a society disregard these people? Not treating their anxiety with care and compassion like we treat any other illness?

I have been having panic attacks since I was in middle school. And when I say panic attacks, I mean panic attacks that are so bad they've hospitalized me. I can't control my breathing and crying and normally end up passing out. If you've never been driven to the hospital by your hysterical mother, muttering prayers for your safety the whole way, and vaguely remembering this because you were floating in and out of consciousness, I don't recommend it. I have been to the doctor many times for this anxiety, searching for an answer on why I can be completely okay at one point, then the next I'm desperately trying to control my panic. Even now, as I write about something that's very difficult for me to talk about, my hands are trembling. I don't take medicine on a regular basis, but whenever I find my panic is setting in, I have a small pill to help me calm down. I hate saying that. I don't like being dependent on medicine to fight my battles for me and I've always been so ashamed to tell anyone about the help I receive from a little, white pill. Everything about my anxiety makes me ashamed. From the look on my parents' and brothers' faces during an attack, to the way my chewed nails look after a bout of uncertainty. I am ashamed, which in turn, makes the anxiety worse.

It's taken me years to learn how to deal with the onset of panic attacks. This one I had earlier this week though was the first attack from which I was able to calm myself gradually. This was the first one I wasn't sent to the hospital for. And once the attack had passed and I had time to recover, I started to feel great pride. It doesn't seem like much to some people, but for me it was a huge victory. One that has had me really reflecting on my anxiety and how far I've come in my journey to get better.

If you have anxiety, I know how awful it can feel when people don't believe you. They think you want attention and that you're just faking it. It's so common that they start to wonder, "Oh, another one?" But let's get one thing clear, there is a distinct difference between feeling anxious and having anxiety. There are many that think anxiety disorders are this beautiful thing. That having a panic attack means crying while your make up runs in little, colorful streams down your face, and your lover or your best friend bringing you food and watching your favorite movies and cuddling with you until you're better. But anxiety is not beautiful and panic attacks are not some pretty, painted picture. They are terrifying for those involved. And if you're reading this right now, and you relate to everything I am saying, know that even if no one else believes you, I do. I do, and I know how scary it can be. And I know how maddening it can be when no one knows what you're going through.

I know how it feels to overthink everything to the point of heart palpitations and headaches. I know that it is a huge struggle to not feel anxious at daily activates. I still beg my mom to make doctors’ appointments for me, despite being twenty. I know it's a struggle to talk to people about your illness because of the fear of being judged or not taken seriously. I know how triggers work, that people or things or words can all trigger a random episode when it's not wanted. I know how it feels to really, truly believe that you are starting to get better, and then ending up right where you started again. I know.

There are some things in life we can't control. For many, it's our anxiety. There are so many who don't believe the anxiety we go through is anything but a fleeting emotion, but thankfully, there are those that do. My parents and brothers have been so supportive through every attack I have. Sometimes, they won't say the right thing or don't know how to help me, but the best thing they do for me is just being there. They try the best they can, even though they don't really understand what I'm upset about or know what I'm going through. They are a majority of the reason I am trying my hardest to control my anxiety.

I know it's hard. It's probably the hardest thing I've encountered in my short twenty years, and I have a long way to go. If you get discouraged, don't, because anxiety is ever changing, and even though there are sometimes you get knocked down, the war is far from over. And you will emerge victorious.