"Locked inside my head, my body, all I do is think."

Samantha Schutz, New York City. Age 31.

Hey all, I've been hoping to get some posts with artwork, so I thought I'd start off the trend myself!

Below is a poem I wrote while studying abroad in Paris my junior year of college (it's also in I Don't Want to Be Crazy). This self portrait above was taken in Paris at the same time. Hope to see some of your photos and artwork soon!

Be well,
Sam

* * *

I miss home
or at least being able to go home.
Looking at photos makes me want to cry.
I sit in my room,
staring at the phone,
not knowing who to call.
I've already forgotten the numbers.

I have become an introvert
because I don't have a large enough vocabulary
to be anything else.
Locked inside my head, my body,
all I do is think,
and it is making me well.

I am trying to find myself
in all of the chaos,
find something that I can call me
inside the screams and inside
the you shoulds and you have to bes.

I am grown in so many ways,

but in front of my parents

I am still a child.

I am having a hard time throwing off the skin

that I pick and peel.

I am the only one who can do it,

but I can't seem to let myself.

"Sometimes it feels like there are two people inside of me."

Melissa W, age 16. Oregon.

"My story begins like anyone else's. I was born one evening in early March, a healthy baby girl. Our stories become a little different when I say that I was the first child in my family of four. Our lives become even more unique when I tell you that I have ADHD and an anxiety disorder.
Did I also mention that sometimes it feels like there are two people inside of me?
Meet Mel. She is the me without my ADHD medication.
Then, meet Melissa. She's me on my ADHD medication.
Sometimes, it frightens me that 50 MG of Vyvanse determines if I'll be Mel or Melissa for the day.

Ever since I can remember, I've been in a constant war with my ADHD medication. There was the one that made me 20-30 pounds underweight. There was the one that created suicide thoughts like demons, constantly tugging me towards on-coming traffic or to a razor blade. I haven't found one that's perfect, and I doubt that there's one out there that is. Even now, lack of appetite and a twinge of depression probe me with each pill.

For my whole life I've always known that I'm not a 'normal' person. And for my whole life I've tried to deny that. I spent my middle school years rejecting the entire idea of ADHD, all the while my fear of asking for help growing. My rejection continued into 9th grade, and my fear became a paranoia when I entered Algebra 1. When my boyfriend of three years broke up with me, I found myself alone and confused in a new school, all the while my fear of asking for help preventing me from moving forward. I managed to graduate 9th grade without asking for help directly, but I knew that I couldn't pull this off as a Sophomore. It was my first day of Geometry that following September that I had my first panic attack.

I can't breathe, I can't breathe!
I'm shaking, why am I shaking?!
This classroom is so loud, yet why is it so quiet?!
I feel like I'm going to throw up...
I'm so scared, I'm so scared...
Can't anyone else see this?! Can't anyone else see what's happening?! They have too!!
Am I having a mental breakdown?
What's going on with me?!
At 1:00 I was staring blankly at a Geometry work sheet. By 1:05, I had locked myself in a bathroom stall, teaching myself how to breathe, all the while sobbing. I remember I blamed my ex-boyfriend for this, I thought that if he was still with me, I wouldn't have fallen apart like that. It was all his fault, not mine.

After that, my attacks stayed more of when I needed to talk to the teacher alone. It got to the point where I needed 20 minutes prep time before I could even walk up to the classroom, let alone speak to the teacher. Even if I was successful in speaking, something inside of me felt that trying was futile. Thus, I failed to progress.

In the end, my math teacher began to break down my wall I built around myself. She let me cry in the empty classrooms, all the while sitting next to me. We would carefully go through my work, and I soon began to understand the language being spoken.

Today, it only takes me 10 minutes to pace outside the classroom. By then, I'll be able to talk to my teacher.
The attacks are still there. Sitting in my room at night, I'll stare at my math homework.
The pressure builds.
But I've experienced enough to learn to not let them consume me.
The ADHD continues, and it always will. I've accepted that I can do nothing to make that disappear from my life. It will always be apart of me, but I know now that it doesn't define me.

I've learned to accept it. Mel and Melissa; I've learned to balance them out into me. ADHD isn't as bad as some other things. But, at the same time, people who don't have to live with it's effects don't take it seriously enough.
When I'm compared to another 'normal' person, you won't see much of a difference. But, that is where our similarities end."

"I would lie awake most of the night, terrified by what was happening to me."

TJ, age 60. Iowa.

"When I went away to college in 1967, I was going to save the world. I was not even able to save myself.

I had always been a fearful and anxious child. Extremely shy, I often wished to become invisible. The pinnacle of agony and self-consciousness came when I was called on in class, or was required to make a speech. I was having anxiety attacks, but only in certain situations, and never recognized them for what they were.

Away from home and living in a college dorm, I felt lost and alone. The campus was huge, classes were overcrowded, and I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I grew more anxious and homesick every day.

While in a crowded classroom, I had my first full-blown panic attack. With my heart pounding and feeling nauseated, I got up, left, and returned to the dorm. This was repeated over and over, with each episode increasing in intensity. Finally I was no longer able to go down to the dining hall to eat. I would lie awake most of the night, terrified by what was happening to me. Soon I left school, and spent the next three years or so in and out of hospitals, seeing therapists, and otherwise housebound.

As time passed I lost all hope of finding relief and sank deeper into depression. I started cutting myself just to feel alive and in control of something. No one understood. I had several therapists, none of whom ever really explained what was happening to me. One day, I came across an article that mentioned a book by Claire Weeks -- Hope and Help for your Nerves. It was a turning point for me. Not only was I not crazy, I had an identifiable disorder that many other people had, too. This finally gave me hope that I could recover from this and be myself again.

I have had periods of stability, and relapses. But I know now that the panic will pass. Depression, anxiety's evil sister, has been harder to overcome. It is still too easy to slip into darkness after a bad experience or hurtful exchange. With therapy and medication, I am working on that.

But you can find yourself again -- don't stop trying."