This Time Last Year

This time last year, I was wrapping up the last week of classes before spring break. It would be the last time I stepped foot on my college’s campus for the next year—but of course I didn’t know any of that. I remember that day very clearly. The drive from my house to my college is about thirty minutes, but a bit longer for me since I take back roads. I’ve had the route memorized for quite a while, but for some reason the drive to my last day of classes before break was harder than usual.

Everything was fine until I was about halfway there. All of a sudden my anxiety skyrocketed, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt a panic attack coming on. I managed to struggle through the rest of the drive, expecting the feeling to dissipate once I parked and breathed in some fresh air.

Inhale…exhale…Nothing.

I walked into the building, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and joined my other classmates waiting for our professor to show up. As I sat down, I texted my mom and told her how I was feeling. I texted my brother, too. He’s always been good at helping me either calm down or distract myself from my anxious thoughts. As I sat there, I felt the panic attack morph into an anxiety attack—less intense, but still not pleasant. I hurried into the bathroom and tried to breathe through it. It didn’t work very well, and I ended up going to class with it looking very obvious that I had been/was still crying. I managed to make it through the hour and a half long class that day and drive home without too much panic. The next week, I would get the news that my college was closing down, as were many others here in Michigan. All the high, middle, and elementary schools were closed as well.

Over the next month or so, my anxiety only got worse. I had several more anxiety attacks and eventually, after weeks of it building and building, a panic attack in the middle of the night that April. Eventually I had enough and contacted a therapist in my area. We still haven’t been able to figure out what was triggering all of this, but my guess is, well, everything. The disaster that was 2020 was full of stress, uncertainty, and pain for everyone all over the world.

That August, my therapist got me in touch with someone who prescribed me medication for my anxiety, and I’ve been doing well ever since.

Now, I am definitely not saying that if you weren’t able to make any progress—or if you went backwards—in your mental health journey you’re a failure. Absolutely not. Just making it to this point, no matter what you’ve been through, is amazing. It’s going to continue to be hard for a while, we all know that, but in the meantime, I just want you to know that I am very glad you’re here. The world wouldn’t be the same without you.

Here’s to a slightly less terrible year (or…the rest of this year)

—Abbie