Dealing with a Decade of Anxiety: One College Girl’s Confessions
I first met Betsy (“B”) in Bald Head. She’s the cousin of my bestie Brooke and came on our girls trip to help babysit the kids. We immediately adopted her into our tribe. That weekend, she was much more than a kid wrangler. She’d stay up late with us talking about life, careers, hers all ahead of her, ours already in progress. In us, I assume, she saw what could be. In her, we saw what once was. Not that I was ever that graceful or adorable. I dare you to not like Betsy. She’s the sweetest. So much so that I hired her as one of my interns last summer. But little did any of us know what she was (and has been) grappling with. For almost a decade, she’s dealt with debilitating anxiety, something she beautifully details below. I’m so proud of her for opening up, addressing her struggles and helping others. If you know of another going through this, whether they’re college-bound or beyond, share Betsy’s brave words.
Maybe it was a mid-college slump that triggered my minor panic episode. Maybe it was just too much coffee affecting my sleep. But, I laid in bed one Wednesday November night and suddenly couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t put a finger on the single thought that was causing this but it’d been building up over the month. I called my mom in a hurried panic, which was out of character for me, and was only met with her voicemail. More fear crept into my mind. I was alone, holding myself above the sheets, in the darkness and quietness of my room. Two fans were blowing but I felt immense heat. I tried calling two others, but there was no answer. My imagination grabbed hold of my small fears and took off relentlessly. I thought about the future, suddenly feeling the pressure to plan. A need to execute the unknown. A desire to answer my heart’s anxious questions. How can I take disappointment and heartbreak and use them beneficially? How can I muster the courage to take my own path in college and not follow the tight-knit crowd? And later, would New York accept me as a young college grad from North Carolina? Or would my slight southern accent serve as a barrier?
Feelings like this began in the fifth grade. The challenge of catching my breath mixed with wild worries made the perfect cocktail for an anxiety attack for a young elementary girl. I’d wake up each morning, check the weather for fear of a devastating storm and hardly eat my breakfast. I lost weight. I saw a therapist for the first time and, after going through several sessions, remember grabbing my mom’s hand in the parking lot of Dr. Silber’s office. The realization and relief washed over me. The fears in my mind were just in my mind. They were just a “what if” concept with no authority, only the power I was willingly giving them. I laugh now as I remember my mom’s genuine smile in response. I’d made a realization most people already know but it was my first step towards conquering those rare episodes. Of course it’s easier written than done. I spent weeks praying with my mom, crying on the way to school, trying to practice the strategies Dr. Silber taught me. Since that year, my episodes (which may last a few days) have only occurred twice more: My time in New York last summer and that lonely November school night.
Spending last summer in New York City as a 19-year-old from the south was one of the greatest challenges for me. Throwing myself into two internships I hardly knew anything about, I left myself with no choice but to embrace everything the city could offer. But some days it would mean a wrong subway taken, an angry cab driver, a germy crowd… After hours of commuting, I’d lay down on my squeaky dorm bed and dread venturing out again. The city sucked the energy right out of me. The crowds and constant hurriedness of the civilians would leave me anxious and feeling left behind. It wasn’t home and I didn’t feel adequate enough to be living there. A wave of guilt would drown me.
But then I hailed a cab alone for the first time. In heels.
That I could get used to. And I’d sit in Washington Square and drink my coffee while the city was still asleep. I’d ice-cream tour the city for my job. I’d go to the ballet with my aunt. On Wednesdays, I’d spend time with my cousin’s precious kids. And I worked a VOGUE wedding.
Those magical moments, although only material, left me with butterflies. They made the discouraged days, long lines and sore feet all worth it. New York challenged me and that is why I love it. The uncomfortableness told me I was learning something new. Nat told me it’s a love-hate relationship. Glad I’m not the only one! Surely I have reservations about moving there post-college. I’ll have to work to find my community. I’ll have to stand firm in my foundation and beliefs against others that will challenge my faith. I have to relinquish control of my future. I can’t say if I’ll be there in two years or not. But my anxiety will not be the reason I don’t chase my career up there.
I turned 20 this year. A decade full of unknown, maybe some anxiety but also excitement and growth. Looking back on that fearful November night, I’m thankful my mom didn’t answer her phone. Getting her voicemail challenged me to deal with fear on my own. She’s been the one to keep me so grounded, I now had to be confident in myself. And looking back on my New York City summer, exactly a year ago, I couldn’t be more thankful I went. I conquered things most 19-year-olds do not. Although I worked for Nat remotely, I watched and admired from afar how she conquered the city in her own way, how she dealt with her own anxiety and disappointments in an honest and inspiring, yet graceful demeanor. That is my goal for my 20’s, taking the time to refine and establish my confidence, kindness, diligence, courageousness and curiosity. It’s those qualities (and more) that build who you are. And from that, the rest of the decade flows. So, New York City, see ya soon!