Every time I felt extremely anxious, I felt alone, scared, and broken.
I remember going to class my freshman year of college after my first panic attack, scared to death I'd have another one.
I’d walk to class thinking, “Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I be normal?”
I’d see students walking by looking like they had no cares in the world. And here I was, brutally self-aware, monitoring every twitch, twinge, or pang for signs that the devil of anxiety, the panic attack, was coming back.
At the time, there was absolutely nothing good about what I was going through. I thought I was damaged goods. Weak. Emasculated.
I was completely alone with it, trapped in my own mind and body. I couldn’t let anybody else know about this. What would they think of me?
Well, I can tell you now what I know to be true.
The pain and suffering I went through with anxiety, depression, and alcohol abuse have ultimately been a gift because they have connected me to the human experience more than anything else has.
The compassion and empathy I possess for others come from knowing what it’s like to feel alone while struggling with things that felt outside of my control.
I’ve felt the sheer terror of thinking there was something wrong with me and that my life would be forever ruined.
These experiences have made me human in a way that all the other experiences in my life have not.
I had a beautiful, healing moment in therapy last year where I realized that I was actually grateful for my anxiety.
I had spent 20+ years vilifying it, running from it, and trying to push it deep down and hoping it didn’t pop back up.
What I realized was that my experience with anxiety has allowed me to connect with other human beings on a much deeper level. It also allowed me to connect with myself in a way I hadn’t been able.
One of my favorite things to see is the shift in a person when they realize that they can be vulnerable and honest with me (and oftentimes, themselves).
I can look someone in the eyes and show them my metaphorical scars and show them it doesn’t make me any less than. Hell, I’m proud to have been through what I’ve been through.
So many of us have spent years, decades even, hiding who we are and what we’ve been through.
There is nothing more human than connecting with another to let them know they’re not alone. That I see them. That their experience is valid. And that they’re not broken or doomed.
Part of my healing has been coming to terms with who I am and what I’ve been through. Therapy has been really helpful here.
And another part has been giving a voice to that voiceless 18-year-old kid who felt like he was destined to live a small, sad life that nobody could ever understand.
Or that confused 28-year-old who thought alcohol would keep the anxiety down while he tried to live a bigger life.
Or that hurt 31-year-old who helplessly watched his father die and lost all hope in some sort of higher power.
My healing started when I could look back and feel an immense gratitude for my journey.
It’s certainly not over. I still have anxiety. I still struggle with loneliness, fear, rumination, and a hundred other things.
But I’ve finally given myself permission to be a human being. And that has dramatically improved my ability to navigate these challenges.
What's one experience you went through that you'd now call a gift, even if it didn't feel that way at the time?