Dealing With Anxiety and Staying Strong

Growing Up

Elementary school was a challenge for me. I remember in the first grade the school counselor called me out of class to talk to me. I remember going to her office, and she sat me down across from her. Her exact words were, "Is there something going on in your life? Why are you so quiet in and out of class?"

What was a first grader supposed to tell the school counselor without getting my parents in trouble? Simple. I said, "I'm just quiet, and I get nervous sometimes."

She said, "Well, why do you get so nervous?"

I said, "I'm not sure. I just do."

I don't remember anything that happened after that. I do remember she gave me a stuffed Pikachu to take home. Still until this day I wish I still had the Pikachu, but I'll live.

Second grade wasn't always fun either. Girls that were in my group turned against me. Was it because I was quiet? I remember this girl came up to me in line, and she took my hand and pinched me until I bled. I thought maybe I did something to upset her. But did I? No, I didn't.

I became more aware of my surroundings at school. I distanced myself from my classmates. I had friends, but only two or three. It became hard for me to trust people. I remember going to school and wondering why I started to feel so nervous all the time.

Fourth grade rolled around and then the most terrible thing happened: Hurricane Katrina.

I remember this like it was yesterday. I was fast asleep with my sister and my brother who was one years old at the time. It was August 2005, and it was three AM in the morning. My dad came in me and my sisters' room to wake us up. He said, "Ness, Amber, y'all need to wake up. We have to leave soon to evacuate. I'm packing the car now. We have to hurry and hit the road."

Now we're from Louisiana. Evacuating to us is normal. We've done this plenty of times before, so my sister and I got up and started to bring our things to the living room. I remember my mom was getting ready in the hallway bathroom. I remember it being so dark outside and the one light post wasn't giving us any light outside. I remember my dad frantically trying to hurry to pack the car.

We drove seven or eight hours away to Bastrop, Louisiana. It's pretty close to Monroe, Louisiana. I remember the next day my parents had the TV on. We stayed in this motel and it was always so dirty. I remember being afraid to fall asleep because I always looked under the covers to see if there was dirt on it. I remember sitting on the floor with my sister, and we watched the meteorologist on television talking about the storm. They would show the hurricane making its way to my hometown. None of us thought it was going to be a Category 5 storm when we left my house. We only packed two days worth of clothes thinking we would be back in a few days, but we were wrong.

My whole family was saddened by this storm. We weren't allowed to go back home until they gave us the okay. Our house was right by the levee where the levee broke. We lost everything. It depressed me for the longest time. For years whenever it was brought up, I couldn't help myself but cry. My anxiety started to rise.

I remember we were hungry. We were all in the car, and we went to go get Popeyes. I remember my dad telling the girl working, "I'm sorry, but we don't have the money."

We bounced from hotel to hotel for a month. I started to really worry. I didn't know anything. I didn't know when we would go back home, if my friends were okay, what we would go back to, and I didn't know how we were going to survive. I started to have all these thoughts processing in my head if we were going to be okay. We eventually had to stay in a church. I remember they had a game room for my brother, sister, and I.

A month later we went back home. When I saw my house for the first time I was in shock. It was hard to move. It was hard to stay focused. I cried. I cried a lot. I started to wonder why did this happen? How could this happen? Is this punishment? Did I do something wrong? I started to blame myself for what happened, but none of that was my fault. It was just Mother Nature.

We found an apartment, and eventually not long after we moved again to another apartment. I became more closed off. I didn't want to be around anyone. I wanted to be alone. Being alone felt right to me. I started to love the feeling of being alone.

My parents still fought. Nothing seemed to be going right besides fixing our house. I went to school and went home.

Middle school rolled around and I started to become more talkative. I started to find my happiness in school. I loved learning, and I realized I actually like doing math (weird I know)! I started to mask my true feelings. I learned how to do it at a very young age. No one had to know I was suffering inside. My job growing up was to keep everyone happy. I put myself last because I thought I wasn't a priority. At home I had to be an adult at a young age. I had to try and keep my siblings happy because my parents always fought. At school I had to be happy even though I knew I was hurting inside. I would walk in English class saying, "Your favorite student is here!" I would skip down the hallways and talk to everyone in class. I became good at playing the game, and the best part was that no one knew.

I became a nervous wreck inside. I knew I had a couple of weeks left of seventh grade, and knew I had to start high school soon. I tried to make the best of my grammar school. I joined more clubs, went to after parties, and even went to school dances. I had to make sure I had friends when I left this school. So, I became more talkative and outgoing. When seventh grade graduation rolled around I knew I had to end this chapter and start a new one. I knew high school was just around the corner, and just the thought of it made my anxiety rise.