My Anxiety: Part One

I frequently worry, and I have for a long time. The physical manifestation of these worries can be observed by those who choose to be observant. Just a few weeks ago, a bus driver in Chicago locked onto my eyes as I hesitantly disembarked - Don't be nervous, honey, she said to me. But how couldn't I be?

• I was travelling alone. I had a train to catch. I was running low on money.
• My stop had either come and gone or had yet to come at all, but I wasn't sure which.
• People were staring at my clothes. People were staring at my luggage. People were.

Of course I was nervous, and of course she could tell. When the world around me crumbles, idiosyncratic breadcrumbs fall behind my feet. Visually, it is quickened breath, teary eyes, bouncing knees, a clenched jaw, and hands that fly from fists to jazz hands and back again. Metaphorically, it is a plea for help.

Since puberty, panic has been Plan A. Though I strive to present myself as a rather self-sufficient young adult, the word "overwhelmed" is one I use often when on the phone with my mother. For years, my life has grown more and more into a puzzle that I cannot put together, and when I can't find a piece, I cry. I pull my hair, I hyperventilate, and I shout to whomever can hear me that I need them. 

I saw a counselor from the end of 9th grade to the beginning of 12th. My grandpa's battle with Alzheimer's had been growing more gory, as had mine with cystic fibrosis. Like any other heterosexual girl of my age, I was in love with a boy who didn't seem to notice me, and a very close friend of mine was diagnosed with severe anorexia. I was unhappy. That same close friend recommended her counselor to me, and I went, spending over $100 of my parents' paycheck every week to snottily sob on a beige loveseat.

Growing up with a life-threatening illness, I was (and am) a faithful believer in medicine. After more than two years, I was diagnosed with nothing, and since I wasn't any better and my meltdowns were only growing more frequent, I stopped going.

The triggers of my anxiety are patterned; I break when I feel lost, unloved, or judged. Unarguably, however, the most debilitating panic attacks stem from my feelings of failure. This is the anxiety that rips into my relationships. This is the anxiety that one social worker noticed. This is the anxiety that diagnosed me with Anxiety.

Tonight, I begin the healing process. Tonight, I swallow a little green pill before bed and lose myself in a packet entitled "Free/Low-Cost Counseling Services in Ann Arbor." But then again, I hate to be lost.

S.O.O.

I was thinking of something today. Okay. So, I feel like everyone has a place, or a time, or an activity, or something-or-other where their soul finds peace. A something-or-other where it finally seems like everything is going to be okay. And then I thought to myself, "You know, Hannah, I bet consciously acknowledging those something-or-others is a really good way to find happiness." And you know what? I agree with myself. So, here I go.

My Something-Or-Others

1. Dancing: Okay, so this is typical. Any dancer would say this. But there's just some indescribable feeling that goes along to moving your body to a piece of music and knowing that other people are entertained by it. It's also cool to know that it used to be a huge medium for storytelling. Tap dancing really gives me that feeling more than any other style of dance, because I don't feel self-conscious when I tap. Honestly, when I dance, I completely forget about my real life. About all the problems and all the worries (unless it's a lyrical piece . . . in that case, I like to draw from my experiences to get true emotion on stage).
2. Writing: Writing gives me basically the opposite feeling as dancing does. Oftentimes, writing is a very painful and difficult process for me. Digging up everything that I pretend isn't there, the words that flow from my fingertips force me to deal with the crap I avoid. Poetry, in particular, really helps me deal with memories that are still raw. So, while writing is actually the time my soul feels the heaviest, it's also the time my soul feels the freest. Many people say that there is peace in ignorance, but I think that knowing is peaceful, because it forces you to find a solution. Or at least to stop pretending.
3. Sleeping: I'm not sure that this one needs an explanation, but the future usually seems to become less scary after a good nap.
4. Walking: I really like taking walks. And through making this list, I've realized that I don't take enough of them. Night walks are great, because the air just tastes so fresh and the stars just seem so bright, but I'm actually kinda scared of the dark. Maybe, if I could just wake earlier, I could take pretty morning walks. They're so soothing. (Running, on the other hand, is my bane.)
5. The minutes after a long cough attack: While hacking my lungs out with a reddened face isn't the most comfortable thing in the world, my lungs always feel sooooo good after I've spent a good ten minutes punishing them with giant coughs. Unlike in my usual state, this something-or-other allows me to take HUGE breaths without stabbing pain or a tickling throat.
6. The movie theater: If it wasn't so darn expensive, I would go more often! I like how all responsibility seems to fade away when you're watching a movie in the theater. It's like you're telling the world, "For the next 150 minutes, I am completely unreachable!" And, c'mon, with a giant bucket of warm, buttery popcorn on your lap, it's like the spa for your soul.
7. After finishing a huge assignment: Much like my cough attacks, this isn't enjoyable during the process. Only after. I love that "Ahhhh!" feeling. Maybe I should use that as motivation to further push myself.

These aren't all of my something-or-others, but I think it's a good start. Hopefully, now that I've recognized where my soul feels happy, I'll be able to enjoy these states more and spend more time smiling.

What is College?

I haven't blogged in a while...

I'm gonna work on that.

Promise. :)

So, where to start. Since my last post, all of my attention has basically been on college applications. I won't post my number one (mainly because I don't want to jinx anything) but it's elite and super hard to get into and expensive and blahhh. But, I'm in love with it: I've visited twice, and I know with everything I have that it's the place where I would be happy. It's just stressful, because even though I take all honors and AP classes at school, my GPA really isn't that high. Missing a lot of school really takes its toll on your grades. I'm hoping that admissions counselors will be able to look past my marks and realize that I'm at least a little bright--I have an okay ACT score and I'm really proud of my essays, so we'll see what happens. I only have one more school to apply to (by Friday) and then I will have applied to four schools. Those results will be ready before Christmas, and if I don't get into any of my top four, I'll send out another batch of applications to slightly easier schools by January 1st.

Other than applications, I've been doing a lot of writing, a lot of homework, and a lot of coughing. Band is STILL GOING ON because our football team has been kicking butt, which I like as a senior but dislike as someone who's basically allergic to fall. Spending so much time in the cold and the rain has got me pretty sick, at the moment. I'm not sure if I'll schedule an appointment at the clinic tomorrow or not--the marking period just ended at school and I missed all of last week, so I really really need to get back in the classroom. Too many decisions. I wish someone would just make them for me.

All of this craziness with college and CF has just made me get really stressed, and I'm just not feeling happy. And after weighing my priorities, I've decided that after my health, my happiness should come first. Writing makes me happy. Or, at least, a little calmer. That's why I'm rededicating myself to this blog, my poems and stories, and I'm going to try to start journaling. (We'll see how that goes!) Other than that, I'm just going to pray pray PRAY that the admissions counselors at my dream school are impressed by my application. I wish they could meet me . . . it's hard to imagine that my entire being could be correctly and seamlessly transposed on a piece of paper.