When I was 20, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I was in college. The psychiatrist I saw put me on prozac- the first of many, many pharmaceuticals that would help me act reasonably normal around humanity.
I remember as a kid hearing how my great-grandma was a worrier.She was worried I wouldn’t remember her. She died when I was 13- I remember her very, very clearly. She wouldn’t come watch my sister and I figure skate because she was worried we would get hurt. I don’t know what else her worries held her back from, but 120 years after she was born I can say with confidence that my great-grandma had an anxiety problem. And now, I have that same problem.
If you know me well, I may have made some joke about being medicated. I don’t ever go into why. And as a rule, I don’t tell anyone about any of this. This is my telling you, right now.
This is what my anxiety looks like: in my head, there is no safe place. There is no time where I can relax and be at peace.
Unless I am alone. When I am alone, no one will get mad at me. No one will be offended by the things I say, or don’t say, the things I do, or don’t do. In truth, I despise myself, but when I’m with myself, I know where I stand. When I’m alone, I’m reminded of how many times I’ve said or done terrible things. But I know it’s coming. When I’m with others, I don’t know where I stand and that’s the worst thing ever. My favorite people on earth are open and honest with me whether angry or happy. I love that more than anything. “Protecting” me from your anger is the least helpful thing ever. When I am with people, there is always the chance they are going to get mad at me. Even though I don’t want to be protected, I am still scared of it.
Anxiety also looks like the person who seriously worries about something they did forever ago. For example, when I was in college, I worked at a gas station with a woman who had moved to the US from Japan. I once made a sarcastic joke. She didn’t get it. She got mad at me and quit. I called our boss, sobbing, and begged her to talk her out of it. She did, but I still feel AWFUL about it to this day. So, Mieko, if you’re out there reading this, I’m still so very sorry.
(that’s anxiety.)
There is never a time where my body is not in a fight or flight mode. It’s usually flight.
I have always made the most dedicated effort to have people not really know how I’m feeling about things. I tend to make sarcastic remarks. People say I’m cynical. Yes, I’m both sarcastic & cynical. Mainly because I’m convinced the world is going to disappoint me in the most astounding ways that I’ve learned to wear an armor of skepticism.
Right now, I don’t trust you. If you know me in real life, you’re probably going to message a mutual friend and say, “I knew she was crazy.” Or maybe you’re not, but I won’t know either way.
Maybe you’re going to think that it’s time for you to come out about your mental illness. A friend of mine is very open about her depression and that’s part of the inspiration for this. The only way people will learn how to talk about mental illness is to talk about it more.
Sources, if you want to read them:
http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/generalized-anxiety-disorder-gad/index.shtml
http://ideas.ted.com/how-should-we-talk-about-mental-health/
Better Than a Sharp Stick In the Eye 
I don’t know you, but want to applaud your courage in posting this. It gives a great picture to those that do not suffer from mental illness what it is like to deal with a mental illness. I have dealt with depression amd anxiety, sometimes debilitating, since my teenage years (I’m 34). It used to be something I was embarrassed by and hid (which resulted in a suicide attempt). A few years ago I decided enough was enough. Why should I have to hide because the rest of the world didn’t (or couldn’t) understand? Instead I’ve opted to share openly and often, trying to raise awareness and help people understand something that is hard to understand unless you experience it yourself. While I’ve had some negative reaction, most have offered support and positive comments. It seems like most people want to understand but it’s hard for the without actually experiencing (which I do hope they never have to!)
The stigma attached to mental illness needs to go, and the only way to create change is to speak openly and honestly about our experiences. You’re doing something wonderful and I hope you keep talking!
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Thank you for sharing! I agree with your perspective- I have been hiding it for so many years. I want to show people that you can be high functioning- overachieving, even- and still have unseen obstacles.
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