Walk the Line

3 - The Time She Gets Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder

3 – The Time She Gets Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder

I felt like the world around me was crashing down. I was glad that my parents had been so supportive and understanding of me and what was going on in my head. I was sick. Even if you couldn't tell it on the outside, I was sick. My head was sick. That's how the doctor described it, my anxiety disorder.

After about the tenth panic attack, my parents had decided it was time that we seek help. Of course, my family really pulled together and I was grateful, but I kind of wanted to be left alone to process it all on my own.

It was also kind of heartbreaking. I could see it in my parents eyes, in Kyle's eyes, in Carolina's eyes. They all looked at me like I was broken and desperately wanted to fix me. But no one could fix me.

"I'm going to go to my room. I'd prefer if everyone let me be. I'm fine, I promise. I just want some time to myself," I said to my parents. We'd just gotten home from the therapist's office and I had a shiny orange bottle of pills and new diagnosis to explain my numerous panic attacks.

"Of course, honey, if you need anything--," my mom started.

"I know. I love you guys. I just need--," I started.

"We understand," my father smiled at me. I got out of the car and entered the house. I ignored my siblings' sad glances as I walked up the stairs and to my room. I flopped into bed and laid there for God knows how long. I just didn't know what to think or how to think. I felt like I'd kind of failed everyone somehow. I knew it wasn't my fault, but it was hard to process why and how this had affected me.

I knew at some point my mother knocked on the door and asked if I wanted dinner and I said no. I didn't want to face everyone at once. I don't know that I could handle that in this present state. I knew I was okay and things would be okay, but that didn't mean that things weren't incomprehensible right now.

Another knock at my door came a while later, and before I could say that I wanted to be left alone, Ford entered my room and sat a pizza Lunchable and a Capri Sun on my desk. He then sat on my bed with me and laid down beside me. He pulled me into his chest and pulled my blankets around me.

"Have you taken your medicine yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," I said, reaching for the Capri Sun. I poked the straw through the opening and took a few sips. He took the orange bottle of pills from me and popped off the top, handing me a pill.

I sighed and took it from him, holding it in my hand.

"Just take it," he sighed.

I stuck the pill in my mouth and chased it with a few sips of Capri Sun.

"I know it seems hard right now, but it'll get easier, I promise."

"How would you know?" I asked. I'd appreciated the number of times he'd been there for me, especially considering I was just his best friend's little sister and he didn't really have any reason to care.

"When my mom died, I was on antidepressants for a while. I'm good now and I don't want to make it a big deal about it, because it's not a big deal. It was a rough time and I got through it. This is just a rough time for you. You'll get through it."

I couldn't believe I hadn't known that about Ford, or that he'd even been willing to tell me that. I mustered up my best smile, pecked him on the cheek and grabbed my lunchable.