It’s funny how certain moments can cause you to reflect on your past. For me, that moment was entering college. Once I had a year under my belt, I started to reflect on my old high school memories. Aside from all the fun times I had, I also noticed all the moments where my issues with anxiety started to develop. As I look back, I realize that I suffered from panic attacks that I didn’t even know were panic attacks at the time.

I used to cry until I couldn’t anymore (sometimes to the point of not being able to breathe), but I soon realized how unhealthy that was. I knew I needed to tell someone, so I told my best friend who was there for me no matter what. She helped keep me somewhat calm and grounded for most of high school, but I always felt guilty asking her to help me deal with my problems. Once my friend graduated, I started to work around how I felt, to take the knot in my stomach and avoid attempting to untie it. I still had a feeling that this was unhealthy, but it was the best idea I could come up with without feeling like I was burdening someone else.

I had always assumed it was just teenage angst, which, don’t get me wrong, I definitely had. I just thought this was my version of teen angst, that, instead of acting out, I would bottle up the rebelliousness until I felt like I would burst. Then I would burst in private to quell any possible concern for me. But it was so much more than that.

I remember there was one time when I was sixteen that I was sitting in my room at my mother’s house, crying my eyes out. While I can’t recall the details, my mom and I did get into a massive fight the night before. I couldn’t get control of myself. I would slowly ease myself from crying, only to start back up again moments later. This lasted for about an hour. My mom wasn’t home, so it was up to me. I grabbed a box of tissues and just kept crying. I cried until I couldn’t anymore. I finally stopped when I realized how much noise I was making, as I was afraid the neighbors would come check on me.

I think back to another moment when I was eighteen: I was coming back from the movies with my friends and I realized it was probably the last big outing we would have together for a while. We got back to the dorms on campus and I suddenly felt sad and scared. I went to the restroom to try to calm myself down before I even started, as I could feel the storm brewing inside me, but I wasn’t quick enough. I locked myself in a stall and started crying, but it quickly became too much and I ran to my room in tears. I was embarrassed and scared and shaking. I couldn’t stop shaking. One of my friends came in and helped me calm down.

This moment, out of all the moments, was when I realized I needed help. This was the one thing I couldn’t handle on my own.

It used to be really difficult, and in some respects, it still is. Yet, lately, life has been so much easier. I started to go to counseling during the summer. I felt scared and nervous. I mean, how do you open up to a complete stranger? I remember sitting in the office trembling because I was so scared of her judging me. I kept reminding myself to be rational, that this is her job so she wouldn’t judge me, but they felt like empty words in that moment.

Once I sat down and opened up, I started crying, and the words flowed out of me like water out of a hose. I told her everything about my struggles in college, my panic attacks, and having to coax myself to stop crying while sitting on the floor. I remember her recommending I visit the psychiatry department to see if I needed medications. So I did.

I met with a doctor who prescribed me some medications, but they made me extremely drowsy. Luckily, I wasn’t on that medication for long, as I brought it up during my next visit and the prescription was changed. Now, I take two pills before I go to school, and I’m able to concentrate better as well as feel more relaxed and calm. The panic attacks have pretty much stopped, too. I still feel terrified, and I still tense up, but I can focus more. I feel like I’m more in control, and I don’t overthink every little movement I make.

I can’t say I yet feel free, but I do feel more normal. I feel as if I can function more easily. I think the hardest part of conquering my anxiety and panic attacks has been accepting that it has been there for years. I used to brush it off; I’d tell myself I was just being stupid. But I know better now.