When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I was sent to the social worker’s office to discuss some cuts that had appeared on my thighs. That was the day I came clean about my self-harm, the day I opened up about my feelings, and it marked the beginning of my journey through actually dealing with my mental issues. It was during that time when I began therapy and got an “official diagnosis” from a psychiatrist confirming that I have anxiety and depression.

In this day and age, with all of our medical and social advancements, these are not uncommon things to hear about. It has become easier to identify in people and so has become more widely and properly diagnosed across all age groups, especially teens and young adults.

Lately my own anxiety and depression have been acting up, even during my very recent vacation, and so I thought it appropriate to try and explain what it’s actually like having these disorders because it goes very far beyond simply being nervous and a little bit sad.

Anxiety is…

A hand at your throat that you suddenly realize is your own.

Shivering in the middle of the August heat from the cold worries running through your head.

Talking to no one but yourself in a crowd, trying to rationalize with yourself and reassure yourself that no one is paying as much attention to you as you think.

Waking up five times a night because you have something important to do in the morning and 10 times the other nights because what if something in your perfect little fantasy goes wrong?

As my brother has said, holding a ball you know is red but only seeing blue.

The feeling of walking alone at night down a dark alleyway.

Taking a test in Greek when you’ve been studying French.

Crying like a hurricane over the very idea of something happening.

When time is progressing at a normal rate but it feels like it’s moving too fast for you to be able to catch your breath.

Caring about every single tiny detail way too much.

Depression is…

When the middle of the day may as well be the middle of the night.

Standing outside of a window and doing nothing but looking inside and feeling separate despite having been invited inside.

Schrodinger’s sleep- the state of being asleep yet not asleep and not knowing which one until you wake up.

A huge canvas filled with life and color becoming slowly faded until finally everything becomes blank and unimpressionable.

Not having the energy to care enough.

Having both is turmoil. Having both means crying for five minutes until you’re so completely drained that you feel numb for the next six months.

Imagine a grand ballroom hosting a grand masquerade ball. At the Northern side of the room is a tall brooding man hiding in the shadows looking on with apathy. At the Southern side of the room is a small girl tucked away in the corner hoping no one will see her. Somehow, across the crowds and through the dancing bodies, the two make eye contact. For a while they simply stare at each other and slowly, as the music pulses louder, they get closer and closer. They walk a large circle around the room, through all the guests, until the finally meet at the center of the room.

The music, at this point, fills the room to the brim and drowns out every other noise except their conversational mumbles. They bow and take each other’s hands and begin a waltz. It is awkward and messy. They step on each other’s toes but their energies radiate throughout the room until everyone else is crowded along the walls of the room. The music plays on and on, for days that turn into weeks that turn into months. The people along the walls can do nothing but stay close to each other in a massive huddle, afraid to break them apart and scared that if they try to go out and dance they’ll get run over and completely trampled on.

Suddenly, their stumbling increases and the music finally relaxes. The girl trips yet again and this time she lands flat on her face while the tall man returns to his brooding in the shadows, his apathy having returned. The girl, shaking violently and in tears, runs back to the corner. By this time the music has stopped and conversation returns to the marble room. People begin to move to the center again, slowly, and the music starts up again just soft enough to be able to entice the dancers to move together and still be able to talk with each other.

The man and the woman do not face each other. Sometimes, the man moves up closer to the center and makes everyone around him feel suddenly tired and weak. Sometimes, the girl moves up and fills everyone with worry and fear. They go back to their original spots for a while, until they make eye contact again and have a quiet conversation amongst themselves.

They move towards the center yet again and ebb everyone else out to the sides of the room again so that they feel tired, weak, worried, and scared. So much so that they, again, cannot bring themselves to drive the two apart.

This goes on and on. The ball never ends. There is no escape.

The worst part about this, for me anyways, is how it affects relationships with other people. There have been so many times I’ve found myself being invited out somewhere by my friends and I’ve had to say no because I either don’t have the energy or I have too much energy that’s being used up by all my worries. And have you ever tried to explain to someone what being worried about nothing feels like? Most times it’s an endless loop of “What are you worried about?”-“Nothing.”-“Then why are you crying?”-“I have anxiety and I’m just worried.” Sometimes it’s not just worry either. Oh no, sometimes it’s little flares of anger at the smallest provocations. Sometimes during the waltz of Anxiety and Depression, it is simply an empty, sort of numb feeling all over.

In fact, most times it manifests as this empty numbness. In my experience, it leaves me feeling hollow and tired. I can’t bring myself to feel strongly about anything for more than five measly seconds. All I want to do is lay around the house and curl up with something or someone and do nothing but watch Netflix. I lose all motivation to do anything else and it’s not because it’s just what I really want to do, it’s because that’s all I can do.

People need to understand that, to really get it in their heads. If I want to be alone it’s not something personal and it’s not because there’s something necessarily wrong with me. It’s because I just need that time by myself to recharge and to nurse these other feelings in my head. In all honesty, I am probably a lot more disappointed about not hanging out than you are. When I’m freaking out over something that seems to be really small to you I need you to just sit and listen. “Get over it,” while being a novel idea, is not going to magically fix everything.

I won’t always be able to tell you what the matter is. I won’t always be able to find the words to explain how I’m feeling. I can’t always be smiling and laughing and even when I am that does not mean that I’m not feeling anxious or depressed. I don’t need someone to sit down and try to fix me, I don’t need someone to analyze all of my problems and look for solutions, and I don’t need someone to just tell me that I’m beautiful when I feel like crap as if it will magically solve all of my issues.

What I can always do is tell you what I need if you just take a minute to ask me. What I can always do is tell you if it’s a good or bad day. What I need in other people is someone who will respect that I just need my space and will support me no matter what without trying to fix me.

Please, if you know someone with anxiety and/or depression, take the time to know their limits and understand their moods. Understand that they are doing their best and they never mean to make you feel bad because that will usually make them feel worse. Learn to communicate with them to prevent any miscommunications and misunderstandings that could leave you both hurt.