It’s time for me to be vulnerable.

I had kind of a difficult day today. Difficult because I really struggled with my anxiety. It flared up big time, bringing me to tears (and I rarely cry). I don’t even want to say why because it was completely irrational and it was over a very stupid reason – but that is anxiety. There is no rhyme or reason to it. It shows up when it wants to show up. I am capable of coping with it now, but it completely ruled my life in the past.

I am writing this because I need the outlet. I need to put this into the universe, set it free, then sweep the cobwebs from my psyche. I have been wanting to share this story since the first day I launched this blog, but I have been afraid. I keep coming back to edit this, erasing stories that I feel too embarrassed to share. I feel ashamed that I struggle with such simple things. I don’t want to sound like I am whining and complaining over things that really aren’t that bad.

With that said, lets take a deep breath and remind ourselves to not to compare struggles. I am SURE there are others out there who will read this and find it relatable in some way. So here it is.

I was accepted into San Diego State University right out of high school.

Navigating the vast campus of SDSU in 1998 was beyond overwhelming. Many of my classes were held in huge auditorium classrooms. I don’t know how the professors could have learned everyone’s name but that was okay with me. I didn’t want them to have a reason to talk to me. I felt tiny and inadequate. I was swallowed up by the enormous campus. Feeling small, invisible, and scared kept me from talking to anyone. I didn’t make any friends. I never found the food court or the library because I didn’t want to have ask a stranger where it was. Anxiety is isolating.

Anxiety gave me clenching stomach aches. On a hot day after barely eating a thing and climbing a hundred stairs to get to my art class, I walked into the studio feeling woozy. I couldn’t concentrate on the instruction. I recalled staring at the clump of clay in front of me while I clung to the table in a cold sweaty panic. I needed to stay upright. I needed to get outside for some fresh air. I needed to run to the bathroom. I needed to do something before I passed out or vomited in the middle of the room, but I was too scared to call attention to myself by walking out suddenly. Anxiety is crippling.

Details of that day are hazy. I might have blacked out, or just blocked the experience from my memory. When I try to recall specifics, memories come through via my senses: My legs felt heavy and stuck in place. I felt the wide eyeballs of my classmates fixated on me. I smelled the inside of the white toilet bowl as I was bent over ready to throw up. I tasted the sticky, dry saliva in my mouth. I sensed the cool, mint green bathroom floor pressing on my hands and knees. Anxiety is sickening.

After two years at San Diego State University, I QUIT.

I hardly remember most of my time at SDSU because my mind was fogged by mental illness. I experienced so many different kinds of struggles on campus. There came a day when the anxiety completely broke me. It wasn’t one traumatic event but days and weeks of palm sweaty, stomach cramping scenarios that wore me down. Once my fourth semester ended I told my parents that college wasn’t for me. I didn’t know how to ask for help at SDSU. I didn’t know how to ask for help at home. I didn’t know I NEEDED help. I just thought I didn’t have what it took to go to college. Anxiety is disruptive.

Getting a job made me confront anxiety head on.

Instead of continuing on with college, I told my very loving, and very understanding parents that I would get a job. After several interviews, the rejection calls came in and the voices over the phone would tell me that I wasn’t bubbly enough, I was too quiet, that I didn’t smile enough, or that I didn’t sound nice enough. Learning from employers that who I am was not good enough, seared my soul. I was shy, timid, scared, and feeling incapable of how to exist in society. Anxiety is disheartening.

All of the jobs I have ever had were in retail and customer service. I learned a lot during those years. I learned how to process car loans. I learned how to train people and schedule shifts for whole teams. I learned how to interview for a higher position, get rejected, and still have to walk into work the next day. I learned what utter humiliation feels like when a customer sharply pointed out my terrible math skills when I fumbled with her change. Such a brutally humbling experience. Anxiety is intimidating.

As much as I hated customer service jobs, this time in my life pushed me to change. This is where I learned how to put on a mask. I learned how to smile, greet people politely, and small talk my way through ringing up purchases for strangers. I learned how to sound agreeable, likable, and perk up my naturally sullen face and voice to not displease anyone. Was that really who I was? I don’t think so. I have only recently learned about masking and the concept is peculiar to me, but sometimes it’s essential for people with mental illnesses who need to navigate the world. Anxiety is devious.

Masking is not healthy to sustain. I found a great article that explains more about it, click here to read: Masking: What It Means to ‘Mask’ Your Symptoms.

Fast forward 25 years.

After what seems like a whole lifetime, I am going to college again. Today for some unknown reason my anxiety kicked up a few notches. Before I headed to my classes I felt anxious about group work and contributing to discussions. I felt anxious about speaking with classmates. I felt anxious to talk with professors. Before, during, and after class my mind becomes preoccupied with curiosity about other people and wondering what they are thinking. What do they think of the professor, careers, school, friends, life, death, heaven, hell, aliens, Oreo Coke – WHAT DO THEY THINK OF ME?! Wrestling with overthinking makes me feel crazy! STOP, I tell myself. Stop dwelling on things that no one cares about. Stop the self criticism. Stop the negative assumptions. Stop being nosy. Stop the loud chatter in your mind from taking over. Focus on the task at hand. Stop overthinking before you get lost! Anxiety is disorienting.

Luckily, I really believe that anxiety can be bullied into submission.

I am not in a position to offer advice on how to cope with anxiety and mental illness in general. I rely heavily on the people in my life and I am forever grateful for them loving me through thick and thin. If you are looking for support, please use these resources that can help:

One more thing: Anxiety will always be a part of me.

After writing this down and preparing myself for the fact that people in my life will read it, I have so much fear. Opening up like this is scary, but this is something that I will always be battling. Always. Each time I question myself about sharing this, intuition gently nudges me to carry it through. So there you have it.

Sincerely Yours,
Jen