The fall of my senior year of high school, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. I didn't even know what that was at the time, so naturally I went to my BFF Miss Google and typed in "generalized anxiety definition." The result was: "a psychological disorder characterized by excessive or disproportionate anxiety about several aspects of life, such as work, social relationships, or financial matters." Doesn't sound too bad, right? Everyone gets stressed, we're teenagers! But, as I started to live my life the day after that diagnosis, I realized I wasn't just stressed about finals, or weight, or anything teenagers had daily problems about.
When I sat in class, I was constantly worried about the time. For example, if my class got out at 2:36, that would allow me to have five minutes to get to class and get settled. If class were to run over to, let's say, 2:38, I would internally freak out and start to get agitated and irritable because that meant I had reduced time to get situated for class, which ultimately would leave me walking in late, which was the worst case scenario for a situation like that. I thought that if I would be late, I would walk in with the teacher already talking (super embarr and on top of that, rude), and all eyes would be on me and I would turn bright read. Ultimately if that happened, I thought I would die of embarrassment, and that would give me anxiety. So, as I tried to avoid my anxiety, I increased my anxiety while trying to avoid it? Yeah, that's GAD for ya.
And this was just one scenario. I dealt with this on a daily basis. I started to feel like Howie Mandel, the host from "Deal or No Deal," who had OCD and constantly had to do daily cleaning rituals because he was a germaphobe. Except for me, all these rituals I felt like I had to do were internally. I constantly had thoughts that distracted me from living my life to the fullest. My anxiety was controlling my life.
Sometimes, if I went somewhere with my friends at night, like the beach or downtown, I could only stand it for so long and then I'd start to get these negative thoughts that kept gnawing at me like a dentist on a cavity. If you don't leave right now, you're going to die! the voices said. The longer you wait to go home, the more likely someone is going to come out of nowhere with a gun or a knife and kill you.
Crazy, right? Anxiety was making me paranoid and on edge almost all of the time. I felt like a party pooper. I felt annoying. And most importantly, I was disappointing myself. I still live with GAD every day, and there's lot's of things that can help, like breathing, exercise, talking with a therapist, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Sometimes, none of these work for me and there's always that main fear: getting hurt, or ultimately, death.
Now, I know I won't die anytime soon because I'm perfectly healthy and safe, but when this is a psychological disorder, you're not always quite so sure. If you know someone with anxiety (someone who takes meds for it, like I do), try to understand where they're coming from. I don't want to down anyone's vibes with my paranoid, anxious thoughts, but sometimes you just can't take control of that little devil on your shoulder. Until then, I'll try to listen to Spencer's from PLL motto:
