This will be the first time for me to write something this extremely personal. I haven’t written in a loooong time and due to this week being #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek, I’ve decided to write and share something that only the closest to me knows.

For the past 6 years or so, I’ve been struggling with Anxiety Disorder, apparently. It may come as a surprise, because a lot of people know me as the happy-go-lucky girl who goes with the flow and is very friendly. I am all those things, but, I am also this other thing.


The doctor that I talked to a few months ago confirmed that, what I’ve been feeling, and my sudden attacks, were all part of it. I wish it were easier to manage such a thing, but to me, it takes all of my energy to be as energetic as I seem. My mom, apparently has been suspecting this also for years, because she has also developed Anxiety after a very traumatic event in her adult life.

Some people would shrug it off as 'something normal that everybody goes through' or judge someone because they seem weak for reacting a certain way to an event but, I hope they would know that it’s a person with anxiety’s way of coping. Also, it's a result of a chemical imbalance that makes us react the way we do. Believe me, if I could shrug these feelings off, I would have done that already as soon as it starts. But I don’t, so, meh.

Whenever I have an episode, I feel like my brain can’t keep up with the rush of feelings and fears that I was projecting to it so it just goes berserk and just flat out does a panic attack. Good job, brain.

There were days where I’m anti-social and there are also days where I could drink for weeks straight and be very happy with life. There were days when I would suddenly get a jolt of panic attack—difficulty breathing, trembling hands and body, and whatnot. It usually goes away when the stressor goes away, but it’s very hard to shake away the feeling that you just had a freak episode, like a bitter taste in your mouth.

I remember when my mom and I would have big fights and I would suddenly get attacks in the middle of the fight. They would have to lead me outside our garden to get fresh air and get my breathing back to normal. I guess that’s when my mom figured out that I have anxiety disorder. My dad would then get mad at her for getting mad at me. I love my family.

Let’s also not discount that I’ve gone through a break-up that considerably impacted my mental state recently. There were times that I blamed my then significant other for the ways things have turned and there were times when I blamed myself, a lot, for how everything went down. I still don’t know which one to believe, frankly. But considering I haven’t had any attacks for the past 2 months, that is enough reason to celebrate!

A friend has recently told me that I tend to express myself unapologetically. She’s right, and I took that as a compliment because I have worked hard to be like that. It took great strength and time for me not to care about whatever other people think and just go with whatever I want.

I become protective of people that I love because I don’t want them to go through the attacks and sadness that I went through. I know I’m not strong enough yet, but I hope people know that they’re always welcome to talk to me when they feel like it’s the end of the world or they’re sad. It would be an honor to be able to help :)