Anx*iety Pt. 1

anx·i·e·ty (aNGˈzīədē/) noun

A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

Or in my case...

A nervous disorder characterized by a state of excessive uneasiness and apprehension, typically with compulsive behavior or panic attacks.

Over the course of my life I have seen many doctors, psychiatrists, therapists, and behavioral specialists to try and determine what I can do to help with my anxiety. I have traveled to 7 different states on the east coast to see these "Specialists in their respected fields", and none have a clear answer. The amount of help I have received compared to the amount of anxiety/stress I still feel is mind-blowing. For a while, I always blamed the doctors.

When I was 11, my mother went to go see this "amazing" doctor in Kentucky that was said to be specially equipped to handle extreme cases like mine. A 7 hour drive later, I hear these exact words come out of his mouth, "What does an 11 year old have to be stressed about?"

I was shocked, hurt, confused, frustrated, and filled with doubt. Doubt because I could not explain to him that my age has nothing to do with my illness, but by the way his face looked as I told him, it seemed to be that I was speaking a different language to him. Then another baffling question came rolling off of his tongue, "Do you think you are imagining all this? Your illness I mean, because it is very uncommon to see someone of your age feel this certain way." I turned to look at my mother, who up to this point has been silent, and I turned back with my mouth fumbling over words. I couldn't believe a doctor was questioning if I was "faking it."

I understood that my case is abnormal, but that should not affect your willingness to treat me. Is it abnormal to be a doctor? Not everyone is a doctor, it isn't a common job, the pay is certainly uncommon compared to most citizens', but that doesn't affect my willingness to sit through 7 hours of traffic for you to tell me it is all in my head. But as with most things in my life, my anxiety whispered into my ear, "He's right... you don't know anything..."

I panicked and walked out of the room. When I did, I walked straight into a waiting room full of people staring right at me. It felt like everyone saw my heart pumping out of the chest, and the fear in my eyes as one old man asked, "Are you okay?" I was too scared to answer, but I guess it didn't really matter if I did or not, as my mother touched my shoulder. I jumped away in fear but when I realized it was her I walked back with her to the room the doctor was in.

I sat down again and apologized... I was forced as my mother had a death pinch in the middle of my back, but that was besides the point. The doctor started to ramble on about hormones, and how I was going through puberty, which I took just as a translation of "I don't know." After a couple of minutes of him blurting scientific terms at me, he then prescribed me a drug called 'Lexapro'. My mother shook her head no, then began to say that I was too young to be taking such things. She was more or less correct, but the doctor reassured her that I was almost at the minimum age limit, off by a couple of weeks. My birthday was coming up in a few weeks, which gave me anxiety thinking about all the people I was going to be surrounded by, but that is a story for a different day. We drove to a hotel near the doctor's office and preceded to rest for that night. But little did I know, that day would be only one of the many times that nobody would believe me, until I was too far-gone.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Call 1-800-273-8255

Do not hesitate. Save the person you could be.