Evelyn D.

Photography by Julia Nichols

If you’re reading this, your anxiety is lying to you.

Anxiety is incredibly smart. It knows the best ways to deceive you into thinking it’s true, sneaking in when you least expect it and even when you expect it the most. It tries to invalidate you, manipulating you into thinking you’re “crazy.” Hearing the phrase that my anxiety is lying to me brings me a sense of peace. It allows me to breathe, knowing that all the negative, scary thoughts are not true.

When I was first diagnosed with anxiety, I felt joy. Not because I enjoy being anxious or having an anxiety disorder—that most definitely isn’t true—but because having a label for what I was experiencing brought me comfort. It made me feel less alone. I started experiencing anxiety the summer going into my sophomore year of high school, and the months before I reached out to someone were isolating. Experiencing anxiety without knowing what it is can make you feel alone like there is something wrong with you.

One reason I was so unaware of what was going on was that my symptoms manifested differently than what I had seen about anxiety through media and the lacking mental health education I received in school. The anxiety I experienced at the time was not necessarily academic or social related, but rather manifested as bizarre intrusive thoughts.

I remember the day I told my mom about what I was experiencing. Taking the leap over fear through faith was one of the scariest things I have ever done, but also one of the most powerful moments in my life. Reaching out scared me because what if my mom thought I was insane—or worse, what if what I was experiencing could not be helped?

When I opened up to my mom, she immediately responded that it sounded like I might be experiencing anxiety. Hearing this word terrified me, but when I went to a therapist for the first time, I learned how freeing this label was.

I was not “crazy.” I experience the same thing that around 40 million other Americans who have anxiety experience.

After meeting with my therapist, I began my healing journey, through meditation, cognitive behavioral therapy, using humor, and eventually medication. Learning to identify scary thoughts as anxiety and using humor to decrease the fear of such thoughts helped me regain the power of my mind.

I wish I could say that was the end of my anxiety journey. However, now as a sophomore in college, I am still healing and learning how to fight my anxiety. The healing journey is long and as scared as I was to admit it, I am still in the midst of it.

Anxiety is a constant battle, and healing is not linear. Some days are harder than others. Some days you feel like you do not have the strength to fight it, and other days you wonder how you ever let the anxiety win. During my freshman year of college, I felt unable to admit that I still struggled with anxiety. The daily battle started to exhaust me summer going into my sophomore year of college, making it harder to fight the anxious thoughts and demanding my attention. So, I decided to go on medication. It was not a decision I felt confident about. Something about taking medication for anxiety scared me, and honestly still does. Maybe it was the sense of failure that I could not treat my anxiety on my own. Or maybe, I felt that since I was not at rock bottom, I did not need help. If this were a physical ailment, I would not have thought twice about taking medication, but something about accepting help for mental health felt like a personal weakness. I am lucky to have access to mental health medications.

I am so glad I took the leap and started medication. It does not mean I am weak. It means I am incredibly strong—that I am able to recognize and accept help to prioritize my mental health. There is a misconception that mental health challenges make you weak—that anxiety is a weakness. Immediately when I received my diagnosis, I wondered why I was given anxiety—what purpose did this struggle have?

I was given anxiety because the battle has made me more able to relate to others through their own battles. Having anxiety makes me strong, empathetic, and resilient.

It's with this in mind that I created a mental health advocacy Instagram, blog, and podcast, sharing what I have learned through my mental health journey in the hopes that people do not feel like they are alone or helpless.

So, no, healing is not linear. But, it IS possible. Dealing with mental illness often feels like a constant uphill battle. But every time you fall down makes you stronger for the next time. And no matter how much your mind tells you that you cannot do it, that you are not strong enough to fight it, do not believe it one ounce. Your strength is innate, even when you do not believe it.

You are strong enough. The anxiety telling you you’re not is LYING to you.

Evelyn D., Northwestern University

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