“It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want to” Another Year of Anxiety
“Happy Birthday! Do you feel any different?” I always laugh when people ask that question. Blowing out candles never made me a different person. I laugh and yet never let the truth about getting older sink in. Blowing out candles never made me a different person.
I thought that getting older would solve all of my problems. I turned 20 yesterday. Still have problems. My sister asked me, “How does it feel to be 20?” “Feels fine.” Does it though? Honestly, I have never felt more inadequate nor scared. I thought that I would wake up one day and want to get out of bed, revel in being alive, and suddenly have everything I ever wanted. I open my eyes to a new day with anxiety just as debilitating and dreams just as unfulfilled and re-squeeze them shut to try to conjure up a better reality.
A better reality. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of falling in love, getting married, and having kids. This dream was bathed in gold, warmth, and joy. It was about as perfect as a dream could get minus one thing. I was never the protagonist. She was perfect. She was the most beautiful person inside and out and had never done anything wrong. She definitely didn’t have anxiety. She knew how to live, truly live. If she had hardships or had overcome great obstacles, she didn’t have a wrinkle to show for it. She was perfect—my idol—but she wasn’t real. How devastating it was for me to realize that I never had dreams for myself. I only had dreams for this fake person who I thought deserved them more than I did.
How can I ever be a mom if brushing my teeth, eating, and driving are a struggle? How can I ever find love if I don’t leave my house? How can I have a career if I can’t do my homework as a college student? Just listing these questions is overwhelming. The guilt and shame suffocate. I am drowning in a pool that’s two feet deep, and the thought of standing up is paralyzing.
If I saw someone drowning, I would rescue them without a moment’s hesitation. What then is stopping me from rescuing myself? The answer is an eye-opening one: people only take care of the things that they value. I do not value myself, so why would I believe that I am worthy of being rescued? For a long time now, low self-worth, guilt, and shame have prevented me from seeking the help that I need to improve my quality of life.
Self-rescue is not something I can do in isolation. I am treating my mental health in the same way I would address problems with my physical health by seeking out professional help. Having a support system of family and friends to walk alongside me during this process makes all the difference. It has taken me a whole year to even muster up the courage to see a therapist, and it is one of my biggest victories so far.
As I begin the process of self-rescue, it is important for me to reframe my toxic expectations surrounding change. I have a hard time rejecting the idea that self-rescue does not mean my anxiety will go away. It doesn’t mean I can wake up tomorrow and suddenly decide to do everything right. It means I will slowly acquire the tools I need to manage myself better.
Driving is always something I have struggled with and been embarrassed about. I let fear, guilt, and embarrassment take control to the point where I didn’t seek out support and take responsibility. I am proud to say that I will be signing up for driving classes this week to restore confidence in myself as a driver! With all self-deprecating behaviors, I have a habit of thinking that I can hate or shame myself into improving. As an aspiring teacher, I would never use this logic with my own students. Instead, love and care are the keys to restoring self-worth and fostering growth. Driving is one area of growth I want to work on to take my life back.
Why am I sharing this? Isolation and shame have kept me trapped my whole life. I know my experiences with anxiety are not unique to me. Other people are out there feeling just as trapped as I am. I am hoping that my story will validate any struggles that you are facing and encourage you to find support. I know it’s easier said than done. I wake up every day paralyzed by fear and feelings of impossibility. That’s the sobering reality. I encourage you all the same, because I know that you have the same value in you that I desperately want to instill in myself.
I share with you one final thing: I actually had a good birthday this year. Not a very good week, but a good birthday. I talked with the people I love and ate good food. I blew out candles and am still the same. Before the flames went out, I thought of a new dream for myself: to put myself back into the narrative. I deserve to be the protagonist of my own story just the way that I am, and you do too.
