Sometimes it's hard to predict when she is planning on coming to town, but when she shows up, she is relentless. She nags all day, constantly begging for attention.

Pleading for me to stop what I'm doing, no matter how important it is, and pay attention to her. She is somehow overwhelming and welcoming, loud and deafeningly silent, terrifying and calming, all at the same time. Every time I think I know everything about her, she surprises me with something new. She is constantly changing and it is often hard to keep up with her, but I refuse to let her get away from me.

It's something a therapist taught me a while back. Give her a name and assign her a personality. Your depression, your anxiety, everything about yourself that you've been trying so hard to change. This piece of advice came years after I decided that my mental health was something to be ashamed of. It was a part of me that I always shoved to the side of my mind. I figured that giving it a good "shut up and let me work" every once in a while was good enough to get it to calm down, and that the rest of it was just something I had no choice but to keep hidden.

Obviously, this isn't how the mind works.

Depression isn't just "being sad" and anxiety isn't just "being nervous." You can't just ignore that side of your mind and hope that it's going to get better, because it won't. Too often these days that's how we choose to deal with it, though. Letting our emotions flow out in the open is often considered weak and immature, and bottling things up in attempt to save face just seems all too tempting.

Sometimes she gets pretty mad when I ignore her, and that's when she decides to bring in the big guns. By big guns, I mean the panic attacks. The hyperventilation, the racing heart, shaky hands, dizziness, and cold sweats. Those are her favorite weapons. When it gets to this point, I really don't have a choice but to surrender to her. Instead of letting her win though, it feels tons better to have my own game plan ready so that I don't have to feel so defeated. No one likes to fight with their friends.

She definitely over-packs for her visits. Bags bursting at the seams, full of doubts and fears. A lot of "what if"s and way too many "you're not good enough"s. I used to feel ashamed of what she brought, almost angry at myself for letting it happen. But now I know that there's nothing wrong with her, and nothing wrong with me for housing her in my mind.

She just needs some love.

She can be kept under wraps with breathing exercises and positive thoughts, hydration and vitamin D, journaling and support from friends and family. A lot of reminders that the "what if"s are probably a little unrealistic, and everything will definitely be okay in the end.

It might not work for everyone, but making the personal decision to think about my anxiety as a separate figure outside of myself, almost like a friend, worked wonders. It probably sounds a little crazy, and it obviously didn't solve all of my problems because taking care of your mental health isn't a "one and done" kind of deal.

It definitely became easier to stop ignoring her and finally give her the TLC she deserves though. Through the process of forgiving myself for letting my anxiety live inside my mind, I was finally able to feel confident in my abilities to keep her "happy" and in turn, keep myself healthy.