Living with Anxiety

This is my childhood story for anybody or any kid out there that feels like reading a bunch of stuff that may seem pointless; this is for any kid going through the hell of having a severe anxiety disorder or in other words anyone who is Agoraphobic like me. Where do I start? Basically my nightmare latched on to me at the beginning of grade 2, that’s right an innocent 7 year old kid with years of painful hell ahead of him. I remember like it was yesterday, that first day of school in grade 2 yeah I know mostly every kid that age hates going to school, there’s always the occasional crazy kid that enjoys going to school but that wasn’t me. My day started off just like any other day of school, my mom woke me up, and prepared breakfast for me. It was a big day for me; I was going to a new school. Unfortunately, I wasn’t too excited, having just moved to Canada from Boston I didn’t know anyone except one boy that lived a couple of houses up from me. I didn’t know if he was even going to the same school, I was too young to know anything really. I wasn’t thinking about him when I woke up for school, I was thinking about how I would survive today. After attempting to watch cartoons before school it was time to eat breakfast like any normal person right? Wrong because I felt like if I ate any food I would throw up right away. There wasn’t really any difference because I felt sick to my stomach anyways but food was the last thing on my mind. It was finally time to go to school and what an awful feeling it was to get up and get in the car with mom who was going to drive me there. It almost felt like I was walking towards my certain deathbed. Death at that time would almost be a blessing just as long as those feelings in my stomach and head would go away. I took the short 5-minute drive to my school, the drive actually felt like an eternity. So you know my mom and I get to my school and it’s just like any other school during the first day, kids all sitting in the gym, teachers standing along the walls. For some reason I stepped up to the gym doors and it felt like every kid turned and looked at me. The feelings in my stomach got worse and I felt like I was going to pass out so I just stood at the door like an idiot with my mom. As kids began to get situated into their classes I began to get pale in the face and weak, I felt like I was almost going to die if I didn’t get out of that gym. All these feelings went straight to my stomach in an instant. I was going to puke, the most embarrassing thing to do in front of your whole school. Just giving my mom the heads up we stormed out of the gym and went straight to the bathrooms where she held my head up while I began to throw up. This may be gross to some people but this is the reality of having an anxiety disorder. My mom got some tissue and soaked it in cold water and put it against my forehead to cool me down while I was still bent over the toilet throwing up stomach fluids, remember I didn’t eat breakfast so my stomach was completely empty to begin with. The sickness began to ease off and I could finally breathe and take it easy. My mother was still patting down my head with cold water while I was listening to the teachers talk to the kids in the gym, which was right across the bathroom that I was in. I knew I couldn’t just disappear so I had to go back to the gym sooner or later so I did, with mom by my side I struggled to carry myself back to that horrible gym. We got back to our little door and I was now weaker than ever and full of sweat, I’m sure some kids were wondering what was wrong with me because I can assure you I was the most pale thing they had ever seen but why was I like this? Why was I the only kid who was standing at the door ready to pass out? All the other kids seemed fine sitting down and smiling how come I couldn’t do that? What kind of demon could pick on an innocent kid? Anyways I stood at the door and waited for my name to be called, and finally it was. What a relief, all this happened in about 15 minutes but to me it felt like it would never end. So like a little trooper I walked with my classmates to my class with the taste of my stomach still caked in my mouth. I slowly started to calm down and realize that I have to do this again tomorrow. This was the beginning of my years of struggling with anxiety. Everyday of school was the exact same, wake up feel nervous and anxious, possibly throw up once again, skip breakfast and head out the door for another disgusting day. My elementary school years were a living hell for me. By the time I would start to get comfortable with my surroundings and classmates the school year was over. Summer always sucked, my demons wouldn’t even let me enjoy my summer like any other kid, all I wanted was to have one day where I could make everything go away and let me be. Pretty serious stuff for an 8 year old but this continued until I was around 14 or 15. I couldn’t go out with my friends when they wanted me to because I was too afraid of throwing up but sometimes I would just go anyways like the time I went to the movies and absolutely lost it all over the theater isle, the mind is powerful. Growing up I never did know what was wrong with me, I felt so alone. Everyone else around me seemed to think I was crazy, I sure felt crazy. School was the main problem with my anxiety. Throughout grades 2-8 I could not take the bus to school because I was too scared I would throw up and when I worried about it, I would throw up. It always went back to if I threw up and made a fool of myself and there was no way I could make those thoughts go away, I even knew it was ridiculous to think that way but I couldn’t help it. Whenever I was in a public place, those thoughts took over my mind and body, I simply just needed to get out of there fast and get to my safe place and my safe place was my house so of course I always stayed inside. Why go outside if I would feel like that, what was the point? To be honest, during those fun years I would have gladly taken death any day, if I had to live like that for the rest of my life then I didn’t want to live at all. As years went by and I got a little older I could control my anxiety a little bit better but nothing to brag about I still needed help. Around grade 5 or 6 I began to see psychologists and finally they prescribed me with the medication that would end all my years of torture, it was called Paxil. I didn’t start taking it right away; instead I just kept on living the only lifestyle I knew. School wasn’t getting any better even after getting older. During the first week of school from grades 2-7 I would be forced to sit on my bathroom floor shaking, sweating, and vomiting during the night while my family lay upstairs enjoying their sleep, I would often try to lie back down in my bed but it was impossible. With the amount of trembling and the god awful feeling in my stomach there was no way I could sleep. Eventually morning would come and I would do the only thing I ever knew, avoid breakfast and throw up until my mom would yell to me to get in the car before I was late for school. Just like that first day of grade 2, every day repeat itself for almost 8 years. That pretty much sums up my childhood rather quickly for whoever is reading this, I am 18 now and currently going through withdrawals from the medication Paxil that I have been on now for about 5 or 6 years. Although it helped me get through school I feel that I don’t need to be on this drug any longer. I have just recently graduated high school, I actually made it through school, something for years I never thought I could do. Now I am older and able to understand my disorder more than any doctor ever could. Basically my demons will always be with me and I have ways of dealing with them now days. I am not the kid I used to be. I wrote this for one reason only, for one kid who has gone through or is currently going through what I went through, know this, you are not alone.

Thanks for Reading