***As many Saturdays as possible, you'll see posts from people regarding their own experiences with their mental health. Use #BreaktheStigma on Twitter to share yours!***
Trigger warning: this piece contains
mentions of living with anxiety and panic attacks. Please read only if you are
comfortable.
I’m in high school and I’ve turned
down an invitation to a party because of what could happen. Later, I wish I’d
gone.
I’m a young adult and I’ve talked
myself out of taking a risk because I don’t believe I can, because of all the
worst-case situations that could spring out of it.
I’m working my first job and breaking
under the stress of the position I’ve been put in and the lack of support. I
can't breathe in the bathroom at my job—but to me, this seems normal.
One of my best friends invites me to a
gathering at her house. I back out at the last minute because I’m overcome with
nerves at the thought of going and my nails are chewed almost to the quick.
My family is fighting; I’m crying and
can’t catch my breath, no matter how hard I try. This happens often when they
fight.
It takes until I’m almost 30 to begin
to connect the dots between all these events. It takes joining the YA community
on Twitter and listening to important conversations about mental illness. It
takes hearing the word “anxiety” and—for the first time—linking it to myself as
something other than a what-if.
Looking back on my life before I
realized that I have anxiety is like finally grasping the missing pieces in the
puzzle that I’ve long considered my behaviors, thoughts, and motivations. Even
as I told myself, “Everyone thinks this way,” or “Sudden changes in plans throw
everyone for a loop,” or “Everyone has worst-case scenarios for everything
playing on repeat in the back of their mind,” I knew I was trying to
rationalize something that never fit.
As I grew up, I didn’t realize that
all the things about myself I didn’t understand were anxiety-related—from
triggers to panic attacks to anxiety spirals—because no one around me ever
discussed mental illness. In the South, we don't talk about it. (We don’t talk
about mental health enough at all, but especially not in the South.) We might
dance around it, brush off, or only know about harmful stereotypes. But it’s
rare for people here to openly discuss mental health in order to break
stereotypes and diminish the stigmas around it and around getting help.
Thankfully, that’s changing slowly. At
times, it’s frustrating to no end to have to wonder who will take me seriously
when I talk about my anxiety or when the topic of medication or self-care comes
up. But I keep going. I keep talking about my anxiety without shame or
hesitation.
I always will.
For the most part, I’ve been lucky. I’ve
had family and friends sit and listen and offer their support. I’ve had a few
conversations where people meant well but still said unintentionally harmful
things. And I’ve had those discussions where I’ve encountered ableist and
hurtful language and stereotypes, and I’ve done my part to teach and counter
those with information and patience.
Now that I’ve begun to understand
myself and my mental health better, I want to help others. I want to reach a
hand back for anyone who hasn’t put together the puzzle pieces of themselves,
and let them know that I’m here to support and uplift them. To break the
stigmas together until mental health is something we all talk about (if we’re
able to) and normalize those discussions.
About the author
Molli Moran was born and raised in the middle
of nowhere, Tennessee, and brings a love of all things small-town to her romances. She grew up with her nose in a book and her head
in the clouds, and not much has changed since then. Molli found her own
happily-ever-after on the West Coast. Give her Kay and coffee, and you’ve never
seen a happier person. Other things she loves include road trips, the ocean,
and Captain America. She’s a personal shopper during the day and a romance
writer at night, and firmly believes that all books should have a happy ending.
Molli writes about girls who are chasing down their own HEA.
You can find Molli on Twitter, where she spends
way too much time (@MissMolliWrites). She loves hearing from readers, so don’t
be shy! She’s not throwing away her shot.
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