"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.

"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."