Growing up, anxiety has always been a part of my everyday life.
Granted, I wasn’t really aware that it was called “anxiety” back then. To me, it was simply a normal occurrence to feel a heaviness in my heart or a chill run down my spine whenever I would be around adults, mostly because of the fear of being punished or ridiculed for mistakes any child would make. It felt normal to catch myself in the middle of laughing too hard and actively still myself in anticipation of the inevitable downfall because I was convinced something bad would happen when you least expect it.
My anxious tendencies as I got older—uncontrollable shaking, hyperventilating, constantly ruminating, the sick feeling of panic masking itself as a heart attack. All because of my incessant worries over everything, like getting a lower grade on my report card, or making a terrible speech in front of the student body, or being unable to properly explain myself during an argument while I was being shouted at. For some reason, my mind equated making a mistake in the eyes of the people I loved or looked up to with being held at gunpoint.
It was unbearable to have a mind that was constantly on guard. It began to affect my emotional state and caused my mood to fluctuate constantly. There were days when I would be feeling fine and days when I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. However, I was convinced that I just had to push forward because this was my burden to carry, and I didn’t want to be an inconvenience to anyone.
Eventually, and inevitably, I reached my limit. While I was out late with a few friends back in my first year of college on a random night, I felt something inside me snap, and I ended up crouching by the dirty sidewalks of Manila, sobbing my heart out because I felt as if I was damaged beyond repair. My heart felt heavy from having to carry so much for so long without knowing what to do.
While I was a sobbing mess, my friend suggested something that I never really considered before—therapy.
Mental health issues weren’t really something discussed in my family. I grew up thinking that when you were depressed, it was all in your head and you just had to force your way through and just “tough it out.”
But in that moment by the sidewalk a few years ago, desperation clawed at me. I didn’t want to live my life paralyzed by anxiety anymore, and I knew that if I wanted to change things, I needed help. Thus began the long journey of figuring out the best ways to deal with my anxiety.
At first, it was scary. At that point in my life, I had heard of many horror stories of therapy not working out for some people. I was afraid of pouring my heart out to a stranger and having my feelings be invalidated or misunderstood. In a country that still struggles to deal with the stigma around mental health, I believe that my skepticism is rooted in something real.
Fortunately, the therapists I met over the years all left me with lessons that have definitely shifted my perspective on life. Apart from taking light exercises without exerting too much effort, taking supplements with vitamin D, having a healthier diet, and using minty smells to ease a panic attack, one of the most important things that I learned from them is that you have to make room for the emotions that you’re feeling.
At its core, emotions aren’t problems you need to fix. They’re your body’s way of sending you signals about what you need. Anxiety is merely a reminder that you’re getting too stuck in thinking of the future and that you need to ground yourself in the present. After all, there’s more to life than just worrying about what’s ahead. Sometimes, the kindest thing you can do for your anxious mind is take a few deep breaths and look at your surroundings because the only place you really ever need to be in is the here and now.
Bio:
Ever since she was nine, Abigail Adriatico has always known she’d be a writer. Decades later, her love for the craft has led to a degree in Communication from the University of Santo Tomas, and hundreds of written pieces kept in old notebooks, literary folios, news publications, and even geeky websites you’ve probably never heard of. With a bulky bag filled with sentimental trinkets and a mind buzzing with a plethora of random ideas, you’ll most likely find her in the corner of the room, writing her heart out on her notes app or on the first piece of paper she can grab—unless she finds you first. Then you’ll probably figure out why some people call her “a bee.”
