There's always a silver lining. The summer between my sophomore year of high school and my junior year, I started getting better. I pushed myself to my limits and it worked. Every challenge I had got easier. It was always "You did that, so you can do this."
It started small. I pushed myself to go over my friend's house for a half an hour. Then an hour. Then a day. When I started my junior year, I was feeling good. I got a part time job. I had to work up the courage to do it. I started making lists to get myself through things. I would write down everything that I was afraid of happening. Then I would list all of the reasons those things were not scary. And I told myself if the list of reasons that it was scary was longer than why it was, then I would do it. It was always a longer list.
Then Homecoming came, once again. I made a list, once again. I was going to go to pictures, ride in a car with my friend driving, go to dinner, go to the dance, and go to an after party. It was my biggest challenge yet. I remember waiting for my Dad to drive me to the pictures and holding this worn piece of paper with my lists on it. I was shaking the whole time. And I had a great time. I danced, I laughed, and I felt normal for the first time in my life. It was a beautiful night.
From that point on, High School was pretty easy. Especially, when I started driving and had my own car. I always had a way out. During junior year I started looking at colleges. The world wasn't big enough for me. I was afraid of anything. I wanted to go to school in different countries and continents. I never imagined going to college in my hometown. I was ready for a big change. Or at least I thought I was.
I ended up picking a school that was 20 minutes from my house. It was because of the program and environment. It was perfect.
The first time that panic hit me hard again was the day I had my in person interview to go there. I felt so professional. I woke up that morning, got dressed up, drove myself to the trolley, chain-smoked cigarettes, and just felt cool. It hit me while I was waiting for the trolley. I suddenly got scared. What was I doing? It was a very small panic attack that I shook off that day. I went to the interview and rocked it. But that small panic attack foreshadowed the next year of my life very well.
The next time it struck was when I was going to orientation. That was hell. I chickened out the first time I was going to go, but luckily the school had a second orientation. I went to that one. I was scared, on drugs (legally prescribed ones), and shaking the whole time. But I got through it.
The next time was when I was going to move in. I honestly don't know how I did it. My diary entries from that day still make me shiver. But somehow I made it through.
The problem is that after I moved into college, the biggest change of my life, I thought that I would get better. I thought that panic all together would go away. But that whole "You did that, so you can do this." idea isn't real. Every challenge is a different challenge. It hurts just as much and it's just as hard. I was thinking before I went to college that if I could do that, I could do anything. But I was wrong. Everyday I wake up, I still have the same small challenges that I did when I was a sophomore in high school. It's just a matter of dealing with them or not. Living or not. I choose to live. So I choose to live with panic disorder and deal with it. Sometimes I deal with it well, sometimes I don't. But I breathe, and I live. So I guess that makes me a person.
It started small. I pushed myself to go over my friend's house for a half an hour. Then an hour. Then a day. When I started my junior year, I was feeling good. I got a part time job. I had to work up the courage to do it. I started making lists to get myself through things. I would write down everything that I was afraid of happening. Then I would list all of the reasons those things were not scary. And I told myself if the list of reasons that it was scary was longer than why it was, then I would do it. It was always a longer list.
Then Homecoming came, once again. I made a list, once again. I was going to go to pictures, ride in a car with my friend driving, go to dinner, go to the dance, and go to an after party. It was my biggest challenge yet. I remember waiting for my Dad to drive me to the pictures and holding this worn piece of paper with my lists on it. I was shaking the whole time. And I had a great time. I danced, I laughed, and I felt normal for the first time in my life. It was a beautiful night.
From that point on, High School was pretty easy. Especially, when I started driving and had my own car. I always had a way out. During junior year I started looking at colleges. The world wasn't big enough for me. I was afraid of anything. I wanted to go to school in different countries and continents. I never imagined going to college in my hometown. I was ready for a big change. Or at least I thought I was.
I ended up picking a school that was 20 minutes from my house. It was because of the program and environment. It was perfect.
The first time that panic hit me hard again was the day I had my in person interview to go there. I felt so professional. I woke up that morning, got dressed up, drove myself to the trolley, chain-smoked cigarettes, and just felt cool. It hit me while I was waiting for the trolley. I suddenly got scared. What was I doing? It was a very small panic attack that I shook off that day. I went to the interview and rocked it. But that small panic attack foreshadowed the next year of my life very well.
The next time it struck was when I was going to orientation. That was hell. I chickened out the first time I was going to go, but luckily the school had a second orientation. I went to that one. I was scared, on drugs (legally prescribed ones), and shaking the whole time. But I got through it.
The next time was when I was going to move in. I honestly don't know how I did it. My diary entries from that day still make me shiver. But somehow I made it through.
The problem is that after I moved into college, the biggest change of my life, I thought that I would get better. I thought that panic all together would go away. But that whole "You did that, so you can do this." idea isn't real. Every challenge is a different challenge. It hurts just as much and it's just as hard. I was thinking before I went to college that if I could do that, I could do anything. But I was wrong. Everyday I wake up, I still have the same small challenges that I did when I was a sophomore in high school. It's just a matter of dealing with them or not. Living or not. I choose to live. So I choose to live with panic disorder and deal with it. Sometimes I deal with it well, sometimes I don't. But I breathe, and I live. So I guess that makes me a person.
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