Ali Shares Her Story With You

Hello my lovely students!

I’m writing in regards to this weeks lecture. I have a story I want to share with you but I didn’t know where to begin so decided to BLOG about it. I started realizing senior year of high school that anxiety was becoming a problem in my life. And anxiety is a good thing! It’s what motivates us to do our homework! But mine was so excessive that it interrupted my daily functioning and my personality even. My anxiety reached its peak last year at the beginning of school. I was so worried because I didn’t know what my future looked like. My major was Bio with intentions of being a Pharmacist. So I decided to dedicate my time—and I mean all of it—to chemistry and biology. Chemistry was kicking my ass. But what was even worse? I was kicking my own ass. I became sleep deprived, irritable, and unfocused. I struggled to pay attention because I was worrying about paying attention, and whether or not I was learning. If I convinced myself I wasn’t learning, then I made sure to re-read everything—which only made my problems worse.

Am I making sense? It’s really hard to describe the state I was in.

I wouldn’t leave my study area, I wouldn’t take a moment to rest my brain, to eat, to workout, to talk to my friends, to kiss my boyfriend, to hang out on the weekends, or to laugh. I became so irritable and withdrawn from my friends and family and I became truly, truly unhappy. I was depressed. I felt like I was in overdrive—yet I wasn’t going anywhere. And I told myself—maybe I should take a break? I should eat something…I should work out… I should hang out with my boyfriend…but that would take time away from school and chemistry, and chemistry was EVERTHING. So from week to week, I stopped talking, stopped laughing, became completely unorganized, crabby, and unhappy with life. I couldn’t even stand to look at my room mates sit together and laugh at the television. Who had TIME FOR THAT?!

Although there was a part of me that knew I was doing more harm than good, I couldn’t bring myself to admit it, and I couldn’t bring myself to do the things I knew I had to do—and the most important thing was to ask for help. I thought… I could help myself if I wanted to, that I was strong enough and smart enough to help myself--To make myself better.

But I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t and I didn’t. Not for a while, that is…

One day I was in the library with my boyfriend trying to study. I was huffing and puffing because I kept cycling through the same paragraph and was getting frustrated that I couldn’t understand what I was reading. I went on and on and became more frustrated and felt myself falling into a deeper hole of frustration. Josh said, give yourself a break. I refused. When we were walking back from the library that night, we stopped at our mailboxes; I had to see what I got on my chem test. I opened it, hopeful to receive the A I wanted; I only got a low B. I was pissed. And upset. And josh said, you know, lots of people, including myself, would be happy to get a B, Ali, that’s good! But not me; I told him I had different standards and mine were high. I needed to get good grades in chemistry because I was going to be a Pharmacist.

So I got “the talk”. The dreadful talk every unhappy person wishes would come, but when it does, doesn’t want to hear it. He told me I needed to relax, to enjoy my college years, and not worry so much about a silly test. He told me I was unhappy.

And I was. I should have noticed before. I mean, how couldn’t I? And if everyone could notice—WHICH they did—why hadn’t they said anything to me? Though his words hit me with force, I could feel my stubbornness holding them back. I was strong enough to help myself, I didn’t need some professional to tell me to work out, and eat a breakfast and take time to myself. I didn’t need to hear that because I KNEW THAT. I just needed to be smarter. I just needed to focus better. I needed more time. I needed to be better. I needed to be great. I needed to be happy. I needed my friends. I need a break. I needed sleep. I needed a change. I needed that talk.

I needed help.

Not until later that night did I break down and tell him he was right. I needed a change—whatever it was—I needed it.

I decided since the majority of my worries rested in chemistry, that I would see a counselor about Test Anxiety and I would see a tutor. So I did. And I got better. The counselor asked me questions about my lifestyle and told me to take care of myself, and some tips for test taking to reduce my anxiety.

And I got better. I started to get more organized, took time to talk to my room mates, make dinner for myself, and take breaks while studying!

And then Josh dumped me. We were together almost a year and he wanted to be single. So things went back to the way they were—except I got ten times as worse as I was. I was heartbroken and dealing with excessive stress. But I tried so hard to keep my spirits high and I did a good job at it. I had to self-talk myself into feeling better (which works, by the way, I advise it) and into realizing LOTS of things like A. I would heal. B. I would heal stronger C. I would meet someone else, eventually D. I wasn’t irrational or abusive or boring, just unhappy. And I don’t blame him for wanting a happy girlfriend…

So I healed eventually by way of self talk and getting support from my friends and family. And I realize that the words “friends and family” are said everyday in tons on context, but I can’t stress enough how much my friends and family helped me through it all. And better yet, my relationships with them grew ten folds. Though I had my ups and downs, I was for the most part coping. But I didn’t sleep. I didn’t want to be alone—ever—because then, I’d have to think about “things”.

Then one saturday night, I ended up getting sick (as in puking). I thought it was because I was drinking. But I never get DRUNK, and especially not this night in particular, so why was I getting sick?? I figured it was my other medication. And then it happened again, the next weekend—and then the following weekend—and then it started happening during the weekdays. 2am. 4am 5am. My roommate and I figured I had a stomach ulcer from the stress I was dealing with. But I had no other symptoms. And it wasn’t that I was puking up my food—I was dry heaving. I would wake up and have to run to the bathroom because my stomach was spasming and making me feel sick to my stomach. My stomach had crazy butterflies and my heart felt like it was coming out of my chest.

I could handle my anxiety when I was awake—but I couldn’t handle my anxiety in my sleep. What was I suppose to do???

My mom and I had been talking about going on prescription medication for my anxiety but it wasn’t until these episodes that we decided to see the doctor. And we did. And I got medication. About a week or two after I started my medication I woke up feeling different (cliché, but true). I realized how light my chest felt (and this isn’t suppose to be a sick joke, either!) I realized THEN that for my whole life I had been living with this disorder and I didn’t know it. I realized THEN that I didn’t HAVE to feel like that anymore, I didn’t have to feel that tightness in my chest or the butterflies in my stomach at every second of the day.

I’ve been on my medication for a year now and I’m part of a mental health group on campus called Active Minds that tries to reach out to people like me. By being in Active Minds, my personal goal is to reach out to people like me, and tell them that I have an Anxiety Disorder and yes, I am normal and that YES! You can get help, and you will be happier. So many college students think it’s just typical or inevitable to be a stress case through the college years. And though it may be inevitable, that doesn’t mean it needs to be unbearable. When I told my class last year my story, I had two students go see a counselor for their personal issues with mental illness and I’m still on a mission to get as many people as I can to get help for themselves. It makes the world of a difference and I’m so thankful for the one who broke me from my stubborn trance and helped me realize who I DIDN’T want to be anymore. So I encourage you to be your own advocate or help someone who you think may be struggling with mental illness.

Thanks for reading! I’ll see you all next week.

Take Care,

Your Favorite Peer Mentor …Ever