I have a long history with anxiety.
I remember having my first what so called 'attack' back when I was a sophomore in high school. I never had an impressive social life to begin with, so it was pretty sad when I turned out to be the only one among my social circle during freshman year who took social science as a major while the rest of them chose natural science—because it means that we would go our separate ways in Grade 11. At that time, I was way more optimistic than I am today, so I didn't really think about it and I only focused on catching up with my passion.
However, the unthinkable happened in my first day of sophomore year.
I came to school quite early so when I entered my new classroom, it was still pretty quiet. There were only a few students inside, and I had no idea who any of them was. Do take note that I wasn't a popular student, obviously, and I wasn't good at making friends as well. So I just stood there in front of the class for a whole minute, scanning the whole room and trying to assess the situation, wondering where to go because despite the class being pretty empty, the seats were pretty much taken as there were bags lying on top of most desks. It would be really awkward if I just took a seat anywhere because I didn't even know whether these people wouldn't mind having me as a deskmate.
Then, a girl who was sitting in the second row asked me if I wanted to sit beside her. Perhaps she felt bad seeing me in a lost state like that. I was surprised but I wasn't mind either, so I sat next to her and introduced myself. I had no idea what to talk about, she was busy with her phone anyway and there were like twenty more minutes or so before the class started, so I decided to escape the awkwardness and excused myself for some fresh air.
Instead, I made my way to the restroom and went into the stall on the furthest end, locked the door, and broke down in tears without me even realizing it. To this day, I'm still not sure why I started crying. At that moment, all I knew was that I was scared to the bone, and I'm not kidding. I never told anyone about this; not until today.
That, ladies and gentlemen, was only the tip of the iceberg.
Time passes but my anxiety stays. That may explain why I don't really hang out nor be social in the first place. I realize that people might think of me as an awkward or even arrogant individual. That's fine. I don't mind being labeled either way, but I feel sorry that people have to see the ugly side of me before even getting to know who I really am.
Does it sound like an excuse that I made up for my lack of participation in social life? Yes, it does, but that doesn't mean that what I'm feeling is not real.
I had another attack recently, the worst one up to this date. I was faced with a tough problem and I was just 'recovering' from it when suddenly a train of thoughts and fear hit me. Hard. It was just a normal, boring afternoon and I was busy with my books and all when suddenly I started thinking about all the worst scenarios that can occur in one's life and fear of losing things that were important. Anxiety and overthinking are never a good combination. The next thing I knew, I was sweating, my heart was pounding, and I felt like someone was strangling my neck to the point that I was short of breath. As if there was something in my throat forcing its way out.
I was suffocating, literally, for no reason (or maybe for all the reason that is).
People who know me might be surprised—or at least frown—if they read this. Everything about me seems normal, bland even, but I always feel like I am different and not in a good way. I spent years trying to understand my own situation and I never really shared this with anyone. I think there must be a time in everyone's life where they feel like they've hit the lowest point, where they simply feel insecure. Up to that point, it is indeed a normal thing but when you feel insecure for what feels like forever, there has to be a bug in your system—and that's exactly what's been going on with me.
The reason why I wrote this is not to seek attention nor pity. I may not even capture the situation in words properly but I want to share that yes, I do have anxiety and I embrace it as a part of me. It may sound wrong to just embrace the thing that should've been fixed, but every cloud has a silver lining.
Anxiety gives me a lot of room to think. At some point, this may have been a disadvantage but on the good end, creativity bursts along with your overflowing thoughts. When I get anxious, my mind is turning into a chaotic battle zone, trying to balance the strong wave of thoughts and the last straw of sanity. So I write and let the words flow out of my internal system, and suddenly I have a long-ass essay on whatever makes me anxious before.
Anxiety also gives me better understanding of people. Sometimes, it is difficult to grasp the concept of people doing certain things especially the ones against your stance and belief. This is actually one of the oldest problems within humanity but being an anxious kiddo, I often drown myself in the pool of 'what if' and 'why' questions. So when problem arises, I tend to put myself in others' shoes and see why certain things trigger or not trigger them. Why they're mad. Why they want it. Why they don't.
At some point this may influence my interest in peace study, but I'll save that story for later.
So, anxious people, it's okay to be anxious and your feeling is valid despite what people say or think. Embracing doesn't mean that you're giving up to the pit of sorrowful thoughts. It means that you have better understanding of yourself now, willing to improve but not necessarily to change.
