There's an awful stigma pegged with mental illness. I believe a huge part of that is because years ago when someone had a "mental illness," they were sent off to an insane asylum. Insane. Just so we're clear, insane means to be in a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavior, or social interaction; seriously mentally ill. Other terms related can be crazy or psychotic. These words should not be taken lightly because in the end all they imply is that someone is mentally ill and needs help. But when you hear about someone being insane, you think about some crazed human who is strapped to a chair or in a straight jacked with bugged eyes and a flushed skin tone, when in reality someone who is insane could look like this:

This is me. Nineteen-years-old, and by definition, insane. I live with generalized anxiety disorder. According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, generalized anxiety disorder is characterized by persistent, excessive, and unrealistic worry about everyday things. Mayo Clinic describes the symptoms as follows:

• Persistent worrying or obsession about small or large concerns that's out of proportion to the impact of the event
• Inability to set aside or let go of a worry
• Inability to relax, restlessness, and feeling keyed up or on edge
• Difficulty concentrating, or the feeling that your mind "goes blank"
• Worrying about excessively worrying
• Distress about making decisions for fear of making the wrong decision
• Carrying every option in a situation all the way out to its possible negative conclusion
• Difficulty handling uncertainty or indecisiveness

And physical signs and symptoms may include:

• Fatigue
• Irritability
• Muscle tension or muscle aches
• Trembling, feeling twitchy
• Being easily startled
• Trouble sleeping
• Sweating
• Nausea, diarrhea or irritable bowel syndrome
• Headaches

So when discussing the symptoms of this mental illness, we can assume that it prevents normal perception, behavior, or social interaction: the definition of insane.

And to be honest, it does affect nearly every aspect of my life, but anxiety does not define me.

Let me explain a day where I had an anxiety attack while at college.

One Tuesday, I woke up for my 8 a.m. university perspectives class by rolling over in my lofted bed in my dorm room and sluggishly turned off my alarm. I got down from my bed and put on my makeup and did my hair. I was tired, but feeling ready for the day. I walked to class and sat and listened to a pointless lecture on how to take notes (this class was a freshman requirement) and then after, I went and got coffee before my 9:30 class. It was a rainy day–my favorite kind of day.

I got an iced hazelnut coffee from an on campus café and walked to my class where I would wait for about half an hour for my English composition class to start. The class was about an hour and a half long and I thoroughly enjoyed it honestly; I loved to write and our teacher was funny. I was in a great mood, besides being tired still, and out of no where in the middle of class I started feeling anxious. We weren't assigned a paper and we didn't have to speak in front of anyone that day, I just began to feel this worry out of no where. My thoughts consumed me and I couldn't listen to lecture. I couldn't stop tapping the desk or my feet to help with the shaking. I started counting my heart beats as my pulse raced. The more my random burst of anxiety consumed my thoughts, the worse I got, and I couldn't stop it. I could not stop worrying about worrying. I felt like adrenaline was flooding my body as if at any moment I would have to sprint a mile. I had a deep feeling in the pit of my chest that something was wrong or that someone I loved had died or that something bad was about to happen, when in reality I was just sitting in my classroom on a rainy Tuesday morning enjoying an iced hazelnut coffee. I had to go to the rest of my classes that day flooded with my anxiety.

After my classes I went back to my dorm room. I felt numb. My body was exhausted. I felt like I had just worked out for five hours. My heartbeat felt weak and flustered. My limbs had gone numb from shaking so much. My breathing was exhausted from hyperventilating, even though I tried my best to hide it. I couldn't express my emotions–I just wanted to lay there and make whatever was happening to stop. I wanted to be happy again like I was that morning when I was enjoying my iced coffee while walking through the rain. But instead tears started to trail from my eyes onto my pillow as my head throbbed with pain. I was tired and felt weak. My mind had been running all afternoon wondering when my anxiety would stop and wondering why it was even triggered in the first place, and eventually I just lay in my bed and cried. Finally my boyfriend came to my room and held me as I cried until we both fell asleep. And somehow sleeping and being held by him made it all go away. But the rest of my day I felt helpless and hopeless. I felt like something was wrong with me. I felt like what had happened wasn't normal. I felt like I was going insane.

What I want you to understand here is that generalized anxiety isn't just being worried about acing a test or a paper, it's having unrealistic and consuming and constant worry that something won't go right and that everything will go wrong. It's complying every possible failure to one subject. It's thinking that if this doesn't happen then this will happen and this will happen–it's a domino effect that never ends. And it's random sometimes. Everyone worries about something, probably daily, but this takes it to a whole other level. An unanswered phone call or text turns into fear that someone died. When someone talks about global warming you fear that in a few years the world will end. When you hear guys talking about a girl's body and you're in a relationship, it makes you wonder what your partner really thinks of you despite what you know he already thinks. Having this makes you question everything you may already know the answer to.

I think the worst part about having generalized anxiety disorder is that most people won't believe you. They'll tell you that you're just stressed with school. They'll tell you to find a hobby that helps you not be so anxious. They'll tell you that you're just over-exaggerating and that you need to calm down. They'll ask you why you can't just control your anxiety. But they don't understand.

People don't understand how frustrating it is to walk around and have these irrational worries. They don't understand how exhausting it can be to have an anxiety and panic attack. They don't understand that you cannot control excessive worry that the worst is going to happen even if you tell yourself a million times and you know it's not–the feeling is still there. They don't understand how difficult it is to be having an anxiety attack but you're forcing yourself to show up to work and smile at customers when really all you want to do is hyperventilate and cry until your anxiety attack goes away.

6.8 million adults suffer from this mental illness alone. This is just one mental illness. And women are twice as likely to have GAD (short for Generalized Anxiety Disorder).

The thing about GAD is that it makes life harder than it is in reality. It takes a toll on relationships. It tests others' patience and understanding with your illness. It takes patience with yourself and the courage to ask for help. It can exhaust you in ways you never thought a mental illness could. It's something that can easily control your life, and something you're constantly wishing wouldn't. It's not a choice to have a mental illness, it's unpreventable. And it feels unfair. And something else that I think people need to know is that you shouldn't let our thoughts define what you think you look like in our eyes. Yes we may question your actions or intentions or what you implied in a statement, but we twist and convey in our minds every single detail. Every. Last. One. And even if we know what we're wondering is irrational, we're going to think it anyways and might even ask you about it. It can come off as offensive sometimes but in reality we're trying to keep ourselves feeling sane.

But what is important to know is that I, and many others, are not alone. GAD is a real thing and medication and therapy are probably the only ways to "cure" or control it. But there's an awful stigma with having these issues. No I don't slit my writs. Yes I have anxiety attacks. No I don't make up my problems to get out of things. Yes I stress about school or money or work or relationships, but not the same way you do. Everyone deals with it in a different way. I just hope that maybe reading this can clear up some of what GAD is and I hope that it helps people realize it is an actual thing that controls so much of people's lives. It's not our choice and something we live with unexpectedly every day. I honestly hope no one else would ever have to go through this–I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, but it's something I live with, just as there are people who live with blindness, one limb, cancers, or other illnesses and life changes.

The best thing you can do for someone living with GAD is to just be there for them and to not judge them for what they're going through.

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." - Plato