Anxiety in College


Many people have dealt with anxiety but for some people, it is a daily struggle. For these people, myself included, anxiety isn’t a random annoyance faced when classes get tough. Anxiety is a demon that constantly, every waking moment, is there.

For me, it began in middle school. The anxiety came when I was nervous. While it was enough to make me sick to my stomach before a test, I never thought anything of it, because everyone deals with test anxiety. Once college began, it began to develop as a daily issue. I wasn’t able to sleep because I couldn’t manage to make myself quit worrying. When I showered, handfuls of hair would slide into the drain. I lost weight. I became sick to my stomach each day. My body was being affected to where it required medical attention. College had intensified my anxiety to the point where I was no longer myself.

Each moment, I worried. I worried about what I was going to eat, whether I was going to finish my homework due next week, that my friends were going to find new friends. I worried that I was going to become lonely. When I studied, I worried I wasn’t going to remember the material. During exams, I worried that I didn’t study enough. After exams, I worried I failed. I worried that I would disappoint my parents. I worried that God had forgotten me.

It didn’t matter if I truly believed these things. In the back of my  mind, I knew my friends would never leave me. I knew that I would finish my homework in plenty of time. Nothing mattered, I always managed to find ways to get anxious about it.

When I wasn’t able to calm myself down, I would began to lose control. My breathing became shallow, my heart rate increased, I felt as though I was going to pass out.

When I explained this to my friends or family, many of them would tell me to “just stop worrying” or “just calm down”. Not realizing what they were doing, they were simply adding more anxiety. I would begin to get anxious because I couldn’t simply do what they were telling me.

It wasn’t until I began to see a doctor that I realized I had anxiety, a legitimate medical problem I will face for the rest of my life. I’ve learned that not everyone will understand what I go through every day.

Although I have been on medication and now see a doctor, I still deal with anxiety. I still occasionally open my agenda book, see everything I have to do, and began to hyperventilate. I still occasionally run out of class, get a breath of fresh air, and call my mom in tears.

Anxiety is something that many people face and are misunderstood or judged for it. No, we are not trying to be annoying when we ask a million questions. No, we do not believe that we are busier than everyone else. No matter the workload or person, those of us facing anxiety will always be overwhelmed. It is not something we can help.

I am tired of feeling ashamed for struggling with anxiety. I am proud to have my own struggles and to have a difficult and unique way of dealing with them. Anxiety is something that should be understood and acknowledged.

I am writing this article right now because an hour ago in the library, I was on the verge of an anxiety attack. Afterwards, I realized that I have been pushing my anxiety and it’s effects on my life away. I am proud to be who I am.  I am proud to not be perfect.


This One’s for Myself

Recently, I wrote an article for my school newspaper. Coming up with a topic to write about each week grows old and you run out of ideas. Last week, having run out of brilliant ideas, I decided to write on my first controversial topic. Police brutality. In this article, I didn’t cover the issue itself, but instead my opinion on a slight way to lessen it.

After I sent in the completed product, my editors changed the title as well as a few lines. They did not inform me but instead published it.

That became a problem.

Now, I have people telling me back and forth how much they agree and disagree with my article. Some more friendly than others.

As I cried in the bathroom of a building on campus, I realized I am sick of writing for other people. I am sick of being so concerned with what people think of me, about my writing.

So, this one is for me.

I’m not going to add any cute pictures. I’ll leave it blank.

I’m not going to crack funny jokes. I’m going to complain.

I’m not going to check for grammar problems. I’ll leave it how it is.

Im going to talk about me and where I am right now. Keep reading if you want, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m doing this for me, it’s my therapy.

I miss my mom so much. After getting upset today, the first thing I did was call her. I didn’t realize until now how much I miss her. Right now, the only thing I want to do is cuddle with her and sit in silence.

My faith is slowly, but surely, growing. I had hit a bit of a rough patch but so far this year I have relied more on God. I know I’m no where closer to where I need to be, or maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so upset today.

I realize this blog post is stupid and pointless but it helped me. I’ve gotten so used to writing for an audience that I forgot how to write for me. Hopefully I’ll do it more from now on.

If you’ve read all the way through this, thank you. I could really use prayers of encouragement right now. Writing is important to me, I don’t want to let a few instances drag me down.

p.s. I lied. As I kept writing for myself, I felt my heart get happier again. So, here’s a picture:)


Because I miss these goobers right now.