I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder when I was 15 that gradually turned into a panic disorder. I remember my very first panic attack, on a beach in Hawaii of all places. My grandma, aunt, and I signed up for surfing lessons, which was something I begged for the second I learned of the trip. About an hour before our lesson, my heart began to beat so fast I could hear it. I felt everything closing in around me like I was seeing everything through a fish bowl. I thought there was something wrong with my heart. The tight, constricting pain in my chest seemed like a symptom of a heart attack, on top of the fact I couldn't breathe deeply enough to regain my normal heart rate. I sat down on the beach and told my mom I was having chest pains, throwing out "heart attack" and "enlarged heart" as possible answers. I questioned whether I should go to an emergency room right then and there, in my rash guard and bikini bottoms. My mom didn't think it was any cause for concern, telling me to take deep breaths.

My dad came over to see what was going on, as the lesson was scheduled to begin in the next 30 minutes. I told him all the things I told my mom, and he threw out two words I hadn't considered at all: panic attack. I never saw myself as an overly anxious or stressed person, but maybe he was right. He asked what I had been thinking about over the last few hours and I shared run-of-the-mill things like, "OMG I want to live here!" or "Is there any way I'm Hawaiian?" and "Can I try to meet a cute Hawaiian surfer?" and lastly, "What if a shark attacks me while I'm surfing?" And the last one put all of the pieces together: it WAS a panic attack.

I've always had a fear of all things creepy crawly or commonly vicious animals. Snakes, lizards, spiders, leopard seals (Did you know they eat baby seals??? Cannibalism much???), giant squids, ostriches (but that's a different story), and of course, sharks. I've always been quite fascinated by sharks, religiously watching shark week every summer, which was only a detriment to my fear. I am a big supporter of the eradication of shark finning and leaving them be, but that doesn't mean I want to go cage diving covered in blood and meat. All those dramatized scenes from shark week and real accounts told by loved ones came back to haunt me. I imagined my legs dangling off the sides of the board and a behemoth severing my calf with ease. I imagined putting my arms into the water to paddle and the creature sinking its teeth into my arm and dragging me to the depths of the ocean.

I wasn't aware that thoughts like that aren't normal. I had been having those sort of thoughts since elementary school. When someone broke into my mom's car and stole her purse, I hid under the covers and covered my neck and stomach with my arms for months, because if someone were to come in and try to stab me in my sleep, my arms would be covering those areas. I accidentally watched a few scenes from "The Sixth Sense", specifically where the kid who sees dead people goes into the dead girl's room and her "ghost" grabs his ankle from underneath the bed. For weeks after that, I performed a complicated gymnastics routine to get into bed every night to avoid a dead girl grabbing my ankle.

Looking back, those things seem so ridiculous. They seem so weird and overly paranoid and fearful. But those were the roots of my anxiety. I never saw such things as strange or abnormal until that day at the beach, when I realized something was off. When I realized that I'd had this thing my whole life, but never put two and two together. When I realized that anxiety and mental health disorders ran in my family; that my dad suffered with anxiety all through college, and my mom struggled with postpartum depression she still took antidepressants for.

At first I was ashamed. I wasn't one of those people. You know, the sad people that mope and think self-deprecating and ridiculously paranoid thoughts on commercials for Cymbalta. The people who can't step outside because their minds are literally leaving them incapacitated. The people who struggle to fall asleep at night because the fears of the impending day are too great.

But it's not like that.

Most people with anxiety and depression are able to function in day-to-day life. The biggest thing that I learned on this journey is that it's a lot more common than people think. 1 in 5 adults experience some form of a mental health disorder at any point in their lives. 1 in 10 adolescents have gone through bouts of severe depression, so you are definitely not alone. You didn't do anything "wrong" to begin thinking this way. You didn't one day get up and decide to be depressed. Mental health is a complex aspect of healthcare that is unfortunately taboo, so it is often difficult to identify and accept. The mind is a living organ, just like your liver and stomach and kidneys and everything else. It can get sick. It can feel incredibly painful. It can make you feel like not wanting to leave the house and stay in where things are familiar. It can torment your body.

Piggy-backing off of that, one of the biggest misconceptions about mental health is that you are able to control it. So many people believe it's something you can snap in and out of; that a bath will be just the fix you need, that a day out in the sun will be sure to cheer you up, or worse, that you're annoying because you're a "downer to be around". Mental health has a lot to do with the chemistry of your brain, which you as a human are not really directly responsible for. This isn't to say that certain situations bring on depression or anxiety, like postpartum depression, or emotional damage due to an abusive relationship, or a broken childhood. Your chance of developing a mental health disorder also increases with genetics, like how my parents both have a history and it was ultimately passed on to me.

What I'm trying to get at here is that anxiety and depression are not a choice. Do you think I wanted to be terrified mentally and physically to go surfing in Hawaii? I would give anything to be able to turn this off, but that's not possible. It's like telling a blind person to suddenly gain sight because its "just a state of mind".

A substantial amount of people equate the words "anxiety" and "depression" with something sad, like I did at first; which is why education is the one of the most important aspects of removing the stigma around mental health. It is okay to feel paranoid and scared and like you're going absolutely insane. It's not your fault. It's a complicated combination of different factors that most of the time are out of your immediate control.

With all of this in mind, there are things you can do to help combat the monsters inside your head. Seeing a therapist is most often the first step taken once you realize you are exhibiting signs and symptoms of a mental health disorder. Having someone to talk to and confide in who will not judge all the thoughts you feel so stupid for having is essential. There's a reason therapists require extra schooling, to understand the inner workings of the mind and find the best form of medication for each individual. Medication doesn't always have to mean a pill; it can be breathing exercises to slow your heart rate, or communication tactics when a panic attack occurs, or an especially hard bout of depression rears its ugly head. Therapists are a great resource that I encourage everyone struggling with mental disorders to utilize.

The next form of medication is just that, medication. Modern medicine has developed amazing remedies to change chemical levels within the brain, designed specifically for mental health disorders. I absolutely hate the stigma around antidepressants. It is nothing to be ashamed of. It is equivalent to cholesterol medication in that it helps regulate bodily functions. Often, a mental health disorder will persist and take on new forms, and with it's progression it may begin to require medication to subside symptoms. There is no shame in wanting to improve your health.

I'm no psychologist; I'm a business major for crying out loud. But I wanted to share my own mental health story and share my thoughts on the matter, because a major insecurity or symptom that accompanies mental health disorders is the feeling of loneliness and isolation. It can be difficult to feel normal when your heart is racing and hands are shaking, but I hope someone out there can relate to my story and share similar thoughts. I hope this article may reassure someone struggling that things are not as bleak as you think at times. I hope to give someone something to relate to, and maybe feel not as lonely.

Oh, and the surfing. I went through with the lesson because I realized it was a once in a lifetime chance and I would regret not taking the chance. I was still anxious the entire time, careful not to leave my arms in the water too long, my heart pumping; but I still loved it, especially my 65 year old grandmother wiping out on several rides.