– LAWRENCE GILL SALGADO / LOS BAÑOS, PH
“You're too young to be anxious about anything." "Just stop worrying so much." "It's not a panic attack, you're just dramatic." "It's all in your head." My name isn't Ashley anymore. I've let something that started out so small define my life. I feel like anxiety defines me. I let this cloud of darkness creep into my life slowly and then all at once. I kept telling myself I had just dozed off and let go of the wheel for a second. That first session was a mess to say the least, I couldn't even get through my first name without crying and shaking. I remember the first thing she asked me was "how did we get to this place" and I remember thinking that I didn't have the answer. I didn't know how I got into this "place" of darkness and anger and sadness, but I was ready to move out. I remember telling myself from a very young age that I needed to keep this all to myself because people are going to think I'm dramatic. The last thing I wanted to be labeled as was dramatic. Being labeled as a worrier seemed better because everyone worries, everyone is afraid sometimes. But most people have reasons for being afraid or worried, I got to the point where I had no reasoning behind my panic attacks and anxious days. I was afraid to leave my house, afraid to be alone, afraid to be around my friends. More than that I was tired. Tired of being this way, tired of trying to convince myself that I was okay. Finally, I hit the wall of exhaustion. I convinced myself that I was going to be like this for forever. Because in that moment I couldn't see past what was happening to me and why it was happening. Depression is something that I never struggled with so when it decided to become close friends with my anxiety I didn't even see it coming. It took me two weeks. Two weeks of constant sleeping, but no actual rest because my dreams were filled with anxious nightmares and confused sadness. 14 days of forced smiles and fake laughter. Most of all days filled with loneliness and
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– JESSICA MORDACQ / WHEATON, IL
confusion. I remember waking up and immediately talking myself out of doing anything that day. Sending texts to friends saying "I have a stomach bug" or "I have an awful headache" became the norm. The hardest part of all of this was watching my mom cry because she didn't know what to do when she would come home and I was hunched over crying in my room for no apparent reason. And having my dad come home and see me lying in bed and hearing him say "you're such a strong willed person, you can't let this get the best of you" I woke up on that fifteenth day and as I was making my usual trek to the kitchen to not actually eat anything I got a text from a friend and it said "sweet friend, you are stronger than you think" and after crying and screaming at myself asking why I was like this, I made a decision. I called my old youth pastor from high school and with heavy sobs I told him how sad and lonely and anxious I was. I did what I had been putting off, I asked him what I should do next. He told me that counseling was the best next option and I immediately tried to find another route to take. I didn't want to admit to some random person that I was broken. Tell this person all the secrets and shame that I was hiding behind. Try to find words that explained how I got to where I am right now. But I knew it had to happen if I ever wanted to live my life again. I called my college’s counseling department and it might have been because of my excessive sniffling in the background but she made room for me to come in that same day. I soon realized I couldn't drive in this state and had to have my mom take me. I was a 20-year-old woman being driven to a counselor by my mother, how did I let it get this bad? When did I stop fighting against the beast that lives inside my head? When did I give up? After many more sessions I finally realized that I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do this to myself. And most importantly I'm not alone. Most college students