If you have ever sat on the edge of your seat, with your ragged and bitten fingernails digging deeper and deeper into your arms as your mind spins around and around through entangled thoughts, then maybe you and I are in the same boat. Anxiety, while its severity and transparency have grown over the years, has been a part of my life for a long time. It pulls and it tugs on every part of you—the raw and unspoken pieces of yourself, beading down like sweat on your temple as it rolls down ever so slowly. Maybe the girl next to you asked why you look so clammy and flushed on an icy, Pacific Northwest winter’s morning. And that only restarts the process. The closest thing I can describe the feeling of anxiety to is drowning and, although I’ve never experienced real drowning, I sure as hell know what it is like to feel as if your lungs are caving in, to see the world with hazy eyes, choking on words to try and express what is really going on inside.

It is very easy to feel alone when you have any form of anxiety in your life because no one experiences its symptoms in the exact same way. I know this all too well, for a good number of people in my life struggle with anxiety and its many ways of wearing us down. I know people who struggle with an anxiety attack once in a blue moon, and others, like me, who can barely get through one day without being swept away by the unwithering effects of an anxiety attack.

I want to clear the air for anyone who has felt like they were drowning and, also, for those who have never felt the feeling before. My experience with anxiety is going to be different from yours, and yours may be different from someone else’s. However, in writing this, I hope that some light will be shed on the importance of sharing our stories with anxiety and to start a new conversation that might help us feel a little less alone in our busy lives.

Unfortunately, while I know it to be true, telling me that everything will be okay does not make it easier.

I will never deny or refuse someone’s attempt to make me feel better, and for the most part, people constantly remind me that everything will (eventually) be okay. I know this to be true—I have a lot going for me: I have a solid group of friends who have my back, a family and a partner who love and support me, I go to a fairly prestigious university where I study topics I love, and so much more. These are things I know to be true, and will never deny. However, anxiety takes that certainty and turns it around, making what used to be a stable world, a more shaky and uncertain environment to exist in. So, while I know, deep down, that everything will (probably) be okay, in the midst of anxiety, everything is not okay.

My anxiety may be invisible to you, but it is very visible, and very real, to me.

If there is anything I have learned throughout my struggles with anxiety, it is how to hide it (too) well. I could be out and about, grabbing coffee with a group of friends, laughing and smiling, but also panicking inside. It is a blessing and a curse to be able to hide the anxiety so well. It is hard to explain, but sometimes, my brain is shattering into little pieces while I’m out and about and sometimes I need an escape plan (Pro Tip: there’s this great app you should download if you have a smart phone and need a quick escape. The app is called Chelsea Handler: Gotta Go! and it generates excuses in a relatively discrete manner. Just set a timer for when you want the app to call or text you, and the app will give you instructions from there, giving you the perfect escape plan if things are too overwhelming).

There are good days.

There really are good and wonderful days where my anxiety takes a break or is barely noticeable. I treasure these moments more than anything and I use them to help overcome smaller fears, like meeting new people or trying new foods. These are the days when I am able to look back on how I handle myself through an anxiety attack or bouts of anxious thoughts and feelings, and I realize how strong I am to deal with such a debilitating aspect of my life. I remember how lucky I am to have a strong support system, and, ultimately, feel blessed to have the life I live.