I Thought Something Was Wrong with Me

What is going on? I love hanging out with friends. Why am I feeling this way? There must be something wrong with me. I shouldn’t be feeling sick to my stomach every time I’m participating in a social activity. Even the thought of the social situation makes me feel sick. Is this anxiety? What if people notice me being anxious? They’re going to think I’m so weird. I mean this isn’t normal, right?

These are the thoughts and questions that have run through my mind for almost 20 years of my life. The summer of 2005 is the first vivid memory I have of my first anxiety attack. I’m sure it was not actually the first but this one stands out to me. I would have been 10 years old. I was supposed to go to Dorney Park with some friends. My mom was away that weekend and who knows what my teenage brother was up to so it was just my dad and I in the house. I still remember the feeling when I woke up the morning my friend's parents were supposed to pick me up. I felt nauseous, my mind was racing with a million thoughts, I wanted to throw up, and despite looking forward to this day all week long, all I wanted was to stay home that day. The thought of going to the amusement park made me feel like I was going to die. I know I wasn’t seriously going to die, but I just wanted to not feel those feelings anymore and I would have done anything to not feel them.

So I did exactly what my body was screaming at me to do, not go. I felt better immediately as the anxiety no longer swirled in my head, yet I struggled with the idea that I wasn’t sick, knowing I probably could have gone. That was my first panic attack that I can remember. It would certainly not be my last.

My 5th grade year would begin in the fall of 2005. That school year is the funniest thing to me. I ended up with perfect attendance that year. But I cannot even count how many times I left school early because of the anxiety and panic attacks I would have. I missed out on field trips and extra-curricular activities because of the anxiety I experienced. I gamed the system with school though by staying just long enough each time to receive a full day’s attendance.

I can’t tell you how many social gatherings I left early, how many times we arrived at the event and I couldn’t make it out of the car, or how many times I just couldn’t even leave the house. One time my 5th-grade teacher hosted a bunch of students and parents to watch Star Wars at her home. Although it was so long ago now that I’m second guessing if the movie was Star Wars. Regardless, let’s assume that was the movie, the story still holds the same weight either way. I loved Star Wars and was so excited about seeing friends and classmates to watch something I enjoyed. But as we pull up to the house, that sinking feeling starts to set in. I want to throw up. My body feels warm, and I can barely motivate my body to move. All I want to do is run from those feelings. I made it inside, but I spent the first 10 minutes in the bathroom and convinced my mom to take me home. The anxiety won again.

I have countless stories of panic attacks just from that year alone. The anxiety started to become more manageable over time. I did some counseling that 5th-grade year that was somewhat beneficial. But the reality is my anxiety managed me far more often than I managed it over the years. I said no to many invites from friends for different gatherings. Birthday parties, sweet 16’s, sleepovers, and the list goes on and on. I started to realize that if I avoided certain things that I wasn’t familiar with or immediately comfortable with then I wouldn’t experience those anxious feelings I wanted to run from.

People always called me the quiet or the shy one. If you know me well, you know I can be extremely passionate and outgoing. I’m not sure that I was actually the quiet one. I think I was the anxious one which caused me to be the quiet one. On a side note, can we stop labeling kids in certain ways? I just don’t believe that is very helpful especially when we constantly express those labels to them. “Josh you’re such a quiet one, you should talk more.” Yeah, that helps me feel less anxious I’m so glad you said that (he writes sarcastically).

The anxiety I experienced made me feel so alone. I thought to myself that no one else could possibly be experiencing what I was experiencing. I feared that if I started talking about it people would judge me. I feared that if people caught me having a panic attack they would laugh and think there was something wrong with me.

So I hid it. I hid it well. It became a true skill of mine to hide my panic attacks and the anxiety I was experiencing. I didn’t want anyone to know. I lived my life in fear of being ‘exposed.’ Eventually, I started being anxious about being anxious. Isn’t that funny? I don’t even know what specifically was making me anxious about a certain situation, I was just anxious that I might be anxious in front of others.

Because of my anxiety, I struggled to date. I struggled to maintain some friendships. I struggled to pursue the things that I loved and enjoyed. When other people around me experienced anxiety it always seemed that it was for some very big specific occasion. For me, everything caused anxiety. I felt very separated because of that. I limited myself for years in fear that the anxiety would expose me as some messed up individual.

Over the years in my adult life, I have become more open about my struggles in some settings. As I finally began to share, I started to feel freer. The more I hid the harder it was to overcome the anxiety. But the more I shared the less power it held over me.

I was recently at a young adults group for my church and there was an individual there who shared towards the end of the evening that they were feeling anxious and that is why they did not really participate in the conversation. I wanted to commend them right there for that and probably should have. I have been in so many similar moments to them, but I never had the courage to share openly that I was feeling anxious in front of a whole group of people. I greatly appreciate them doing that.

There may be some things wrong with me, because well, I am human. But anxiety is not one of them. Dealing with anxiety does not make me less than. I wish I could say that I haven’t had a panic attack in the last year. I have. In fact, the last couple of years it felt like my anxiety resurfaced in ways that I hadn’t experienced in years. But this time, I started to deal with it. I didn’t run. I sought help. I sought support. I continue to do so.

My prayer used to be that I would one day never again experience the anxiety I’ve felt for years. But this year my prayer has turned into something else. Now, my prayer is that I will persevere through the anxiety. Through that, I will become stronger. Would I complain if God just took it away miraculously? Definitely not. But I am also no longer going to allow it to manage me. Anxiety now reminds me to turn towards God. It’s like a check engine light in my life. It may go off more often than most people, but I don’t view myself as less than anymore.

If you’ve related to anything that I shared, just know you’re not alone. There is help and support out there that exists for you. We live in a broken world. Your anxiety does not mean you’re broken. It just means you’re human.

There is a scripture that I like to lean into as I think about my journey through dealing with anxiety, I encourage you to lean into it as well. Romans 5:3-5 – “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Keep enduring through your suffering because through that you will discover hope that will carry you through your challenges.