I don’t remember my first panic attack. Instead of it affecting me instantaneously, it was a slow build up of feelings, like building blocks. I remember my body physically shaking and my hands were freezing cold, while my chest tightened. We tried handling it on our own at first, but with anxiety, it was hard to even define what “it” was. I felt guilty. I felt selfish. I felt alone. And with each day, I felt like I was getting worse.

School had become complicated. I was exhausted from staying up late from the attacks. And the thought of going to school was enough to send me over the edge. We were trying out tutoring and alternative schooling. Nothing was working.

In the middle of all of this, we were trying every anxiety/depression medication out there.

Xanax. Klonopin. Lexipro. Prozac. Effexor. Hydroxyzine.

The list goes on.

Why me? The question I felt guilty asking, but always wanted to know the answer to. My friends could do things without being anxious, so why couldn’t I?

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

And then I found myself beginning to improve.

I want to make this clear: It wasn’t overnight. There wasn’t one thing that cause the shift. There wasn’t one specific thing that had “cured” me. I had good days and bad days and days I didn’t leave the house. It was slow and scary and sometimes it was too much. But I kept going.

I started a new school and began to feel more comfortable. I started weeding out the shitty friends I had, to leave room for the new ones and the old ones that actually cared about my well being. I read books and saw films that made me feel less alone. I talked to a professional about how I was feeling. I found medicine that helped me cope and medicine that helped me sleep. I read more poetry. I listened to music about every emotion out there. I ate ice cream and drank water and made sure to take my medicine. I laughed a lot. I cried a lot. I hugged my mom and kept my family close.

When I was struggling with anxiety and depression, I truly thought that I would be feeling these things for the rest of my time here on earth. There are days where I still feel anxious. There are panic attacks. There are moments of insecurity.

But with the support of my family and friends, the right medicine, the films and books and music, I am able to get through it.

In order to get to where I am now, I had establish what made me the most anxious, and to distance myself from that. And over time, I was able to identify what I could and couldn’t handle.

A few years ago, I couldn’t picture myself going to college, or even graduating high school because of how bad I was feeling. I didn’t think I would be where I am now.

I got here because of me. Sure, I had help along the way, but in order to fight through the tough times, I had to want it. I had to want to get better.