Having anxiety is something that most people don't understand. It's something that is hard to deal with especially when you get your first attack at age five. My grandma Blaisdell died and I developed this a month or so after. She was a really big part of my life, being the only parent of my father that I got to meet. She lived in Minnesota so we didn't get to see her as often as I would've liked. I don't remember many things about her, which isn't a very good feeling for me. She was a sweet lady who cared about everyone. Her apartment had a rocking chair and they remind me of her everytime I see one. My grandma was one of my favorite people, and I miss her a lot.
Her death made me develop anxiety, a month after she died I would go into my parent's room and say I had this feeling. I don't remember a lot about this, but now that I've grown up I realized what this feeling was; it was an anxiety attack. The one thing I remember most clearly about this was telling my mom I didn't want to die. I was only five and obviously didn't know a lot about death. I still get attacks now at age 17. I know how to make them receed, but there isn't a cure for it. As much as I wish there was, having social and seperation anxiety has changed me as a person. I have grown much closer to my parents and I haven't been able to make friends as easily as most people have. I have a hard time opening up and talking to people because the thought closes my throat and makes me sick so I have to get myself away from the situation which isn't always possible. My mom has had to also change her ways. She has to be careful what she does, and watch the situations she puts me in. I'm 17 and I still make her come into gas stations and other places with me. My mom has helped me get through this, and she has made this problem much easier to deal with. I'm hoping I can learn better ways to cope, but for now, I'm still stuck with those "feelings."
I like the honesty in this post! I totally understand how you feel, because I also get anxiety attacks! One time in 8th grade I cried all night because I thought I studied for the wrong final. Number one, it was eighth grade and I didn't even need to worry about homework, and secondly, my mom called Mr. Baranick for me to see what test was that day. I knew I hadn't studied for the wrong one, but I couldn't get over the thought in my head that I did! I like how personal this was, and I think your picture is really cute. Good job, keep up the good work:)
ReplyDeleteI love the picture you put at the end of the post; it really tied this together and added some humor! I loved how you made this so personal and honest. You took a risk with this, but it totally worked! You could even add more emotion to it, if you felt comfortable doing so. Good job and keep up the good work!
ReplyDeleteI really liked this blog. You really knew what you were talking about and i also like how you incorporated your true story and its cool that you felt comfortable to share it with us. Great Job!
ReplyDeleteKatlyn, I am proud of you for writing about this. You took a risk in talking about a very personal issue. You do a nice job identifying anxiety and begin to explain why it is a struggle for you. I think you could try to capture the feelings more to show what an anxiety attack feels like. What happens physically, what messages go through a person's mind, etc. It might be different for each person. For me, I feel like my heart has a foot crushing it and as hard as I fight to move that foot, it only makes my heart beat harder and faster. Those might be some details you could incorporate. Careful of the use of "you" in this. Since it's your reflection, it's not needed.
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