"He has made me promise to not burn myself."

Nicole Easterwood, age 20
Jacksonville, AL

His hands are smooth,
uncalloused,
as they touch my skin.
At the beginning of each
of my phalanges
lay thick calluses.
My thumbs,
and sometimes index fingers,
are torn up
and bleed from picking.
I can’t stop.
I’ve tried so many times.
I’ve thought of him
and pleaded with my mind
to stop.
I’ve tried.

His arms are free of scars,
so strong.
I look at mine and am ashamed.
Reminders of cold bathroom floor,
mixing with the flame of a lighter.
So many sleepless nights.
So many days of curtains drawn.
So many panic attacks taking over me.
I’ve tried to be calm.
I’ve tried.
I’ve tried.

No one seems to understand
how it feels to think
that you are alone.
But when his hand brushes mine,
breathing ceases
and I am not thinking
of how I can make it stop.
It culminates and I am fine.
Nothing matters
except simply being.

He has made me promise
to not burn myself.
To stop
inflicting pain.
I promised.
And I will
keep my promise.
Because he’s worth it.
Because I’m scared
to say I love him.
To tell him
he deserves someone
who is well.
To tell him,
“You make me
feel less alone.”

"I look in the mirror and I see a stranger."

Nicole Easterwood, age 20. Ohatchee, Alabama

I can feel the heaviness again.
I am driving down the road
at ninety to nothing,
flooring it so I can get home,
so I don’t have to do this
in the middle of the road
alone.
My sister’s there.
She knows what to do,
what to say to me
to make me begin
to calm down.
Even if I don’t tell her
what’s going on.
There is nothing here,
but blackness
and my mind
is pacing back and forth.
I keep trying to figure out
what triggered it this time
so I can know not to do
whatever it was again.
But each time
it’s something different.
Each time the “thing”
that makes me feel like I am
losing
control
changes.
I can’t pinpoint anything anymore.
I can’t figure out what it is this time.
All I can see
when I turn around
each corner is
fail,
Fail,
FAIL.
Like nothing I’m doing matters
and the sea of brackish water
is consuming my lungs
when I am mute.
Like all it would take
to make all of the tension
and pulsating stop would be
making a stop by “Blunt Guy’s” house.
I could waste away
into the pot
and the alcohol and,
for a little while,
I wouldn’t feel like
I was dying.
The offer is
so tempting.
Then I think of Jake
and my mentor and
what they would think of me
if they knew all of this,
but I can’t take all of it anymore.
I look in the mirror
and I see a stranger,
someone who
could not possibly be Nicole,
someone who should not still
be here in this town,
someone who should
be gone by now.
And Jo is the only one
who really understands
that I can’t be
in this house anymore.
That even driving is a task
and my chest is still heavy
and stomach churning
as I pull in the driveway
and try to breathe,
breathe,
breathe.

"The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance."

Amber McLain, age 18. Michigan

Panic rises and grips my throat, my heart. I feel like death has his arms around me, waiting for just the right moment to move his hands around my neck. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Why does no one understand that? Can no one understand what’s going on? I’m too shy to ask for help, but is it really not obvious? Mom, dad, sisters one, two and three – do you not see how much I’m suffering? No one understands, until…a book. A book gives me hope. Many books, actually. They help me realize that what’s wrong isn’t that I’m crazy; what’s wrong is that I’m depressed; I might very well have panic disorder. This is oddly calming; just knowing that I am not alone in this struggle helps. I don’t feel as bad, don’t feel the need to hide, don’t self-medicate. The knowledge that I’m not alone helped me find balance.

"The tears flow but they do not over power me this time."

Cathy R., age 34. Brooklyn, NY

I am trying to make life simple again.
The panic is constantly taunting me.
Threatening to show itself to company.
This feeling is unbearable.

I haven't felt this way since I was 16, and then 22,
and then now,
and all of the times in between that I blamed it on life being difficult.
Circumstances forever changing. Relationships ending.
The day to day tasks and obligations that others seem to navigate,
but make me freeze.

The walking in circles.
Back tracking my steps.
Misplacing things.
Forgetting details as soon as I allow my mind to wander.
Trying to figure out why I am here and not there.
The constant worrying.
Is just time consuming.

My chest feels like it's going to cave in.
My stomach in knots.
The comfort of having water close by at all times soothes me.
And antacids in my bag.
And the ability to phone a friend.

It is difficult to grasp because the highs are so high.
And the lows are terrifying.

I am unsure if I should go on medication.
Psychiatrist thinks I should.
Therapist thinks there are other ways.
I just want to be uncomplicated.

Do I really need them?

I function, I create, I am a friend, a daughter, a coworker, I get through my days.
I also cry, panic, hoard, have rituals, and I am afraid.
It's all very confusing.

Everything is sitting on the surface and I feel naked and exposed.

When I'm not productive,
it makes me feel invisible.
I am wrapped with guilt.

All I hear is my head telling me that I'm not good enough,
Not strong enough,
Not talented enough to make this life.
And though I know different,
It makes everything black and makes me grip onto nothingness as if it defines me.

This weeks challenge is allowing the emotions to happen as they come,
instead of suppressing them until I cannot breathe.
The tears flow but they do not over power me this time.

It was not always like this.
This will pass, again.
It has to.

Second batch of poetry contest entries

Here's the second batch of entries to the poetry contest. Check back next Moday for more!

Submit your poem by 4/26. Read the guidelines here.

Charles Pargo, age 20

Frustration

My frustration is causing anticipation

Because of the decision and hard times I’m facing

Running after something but what am I chasing?

My heart is still but my emotion racing

My thoughts are long and my decisions made

My mistakes and lies have already been paid

But my family I still owe

Because when they needed help I couldn’t open the door

My mind is at a level where my thinking process is higher

I go to sleep warm but wake up cold in a sweat

Thinking about a dream that I can’t forget

I feel pain but I’m not hit

The game is over did I lose or did I quit?

Trying to put my life back together but some pieces don’t fit

I think I’m missing my heart, did you steal it?

Craving freedom but anger I am tasting

Getting past my problems but facing frustrations.

Philip Zyg, age 34

WINTER SPORTS 2

Agonizing laboratory rat in the slush

by a sliding glass door -

a party inside, laughter & cocktails,

he outside, few seconds left

and he dies, with the terminal

image of his female miscarrying -

five poor unborn darlings.

Anonymous, age 17

The man across the room is bending a silver spoon
With his mind
The only thing that flexes is sorrow when I use mine
I take a breath through my ears and the ambiance fills my brain
For a moment it is enough
To convince me that I am not insane
I love you, mid-morning rain
You give me the amnesia to forget away
The struggle of loneliness, the uncomforts of a twin-sized bed
Because only one woman falls asleep here in my head
Call it hopeless or call it foreshadowing
I can’t tell now where I am because my eyes are rattling
There are padded rooms for dangerous people
Holy books in sacred steeples
I remember the faces but I forgot the beautiful people
I have friends here
Around their necks they hang bells
They call this place home
I call this prison hell
It is likely that I am in a mental hospital
But the drugs make it difficult to tell

Matt J Davies, age 26

I think you got the best of me
And kept some for yourself
You took three years of energy
Then left me on the shelf

I wouldnt say i blame you
But youve killed a part of me
I gave too much then lost you
And that Loves now history

The way our friendship ended
Broke my spirit and romance
I dropped my faith in people
And i fell into a trance

I spent a year of wishing
That youd not changed as id feared
I sat at home and wrote a poem
And grew myself a beard

It took a lot to leave you be
And not follow your trail
Or crash your phone and inbox
With texts and long emails

I sent a few of course
No more than 1 a week
But you chose to ignore
For reasons i still seek

I still seek sense and closure
I need to know your mind
How could you leave me sat here
Alone and high and dry

True love waits Thom told me
And for a while i really thought
That maybe i still loved you
Cause moving on was fraught

Everyday for months on end
Id think about your face
Obsessing over little things
And remembering your ways

At times i was so bitter
Angry and so mad
It seemed so unnecessary
That youd treated me so bad

I didnt hurt or harm you
During our 4 years
I only showed you Love
And believed true love was ours

Even when you dumped me
I forgave despite the hurt
And then you promised friendship
And i took you to your word

To be just friends was enough for me
I Loved you as a friend
I was prepared to be your friend
Best friends until the end

On the last day i saw you
When i met your little dog
Things didnt seem that awkward
And i left without a fog

But then you stopped replying
To texts and morning calls
Youd made the choice to dump me
Youd changed and turned so cold

So here we are a year has passed
And im still on my own
I dont get out that much
And i barely use the phone

Im paying the price for meeting you
And giving you too much Love
I simply quite adored you
And thought that was enough

Yet now i must move on
And ive tried to all this year
Its got a little easier
But there something still not here

If you find my sparkle
Can you post it back to me
I hope it reconnects and
Im able to achieve

Achieve the sort of happiness
Of when i first met you
I want to meet another girl
And make her happy too

But when i do i now know
With many thanks to you
Not to get too close to her
Or leave friends out the loop

I cant rely on one girl
To see me through my days
Its obvious that true love
Doesnt last or really wait

So as i end this scrambled page
Of self obsessed old tripe
I say to you my bunny
I wish you a beautiful life

Although you half destroyed me
Youve also made me strong
Despite the fact there was no need
And despite that it was wrong

But wrong or right im still here
And you are where you are
Good luck to you my pretty girl
Ill see you in the stars

Jaycee Rose, age 18

Panic.

I don't know who I am anymore.

I have lost all semblance of logic, of reason.

Of sanity.

Of myself.

I feel trapped, a bitter taste on my tongue.

My mind is never where it should be, I am slipping away.

It's so dark all around me and my lungs are filled with dirt and water and everything else that is burying me, so much that I can't call out for help, for a breath.

They see me drowning, but I can't explain just how much.

No one can reach the depths I have reached.

I'm like a recording, my throat scratching and clawing for the truth to come out but when I open my mouth I can only deny.

Deny that I am so scared of myself that I lie awake at night haunted.

That I am afraid to be out with myself because I have lost all semblance of control.

This had made me lose every part of me that I knew.

It's turned me into a monster, an alien to myself.

To the people around me.

I'm so scared of it, and yet it is the only thing that can let me feel in control.

"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 can get through the day but at night it seems everything catches up to me. "

JAP, age 30. Des Moines, IA.

My Belly Aches Blue - Lorazapam Flu (Lyrics from Blue October)

I wonder if I will ever be off the medication. I wonder if I even want to be. Do I want to get better? Do I like having this as an excuse to not socialize.

I am the definition of anti-social, yet I can't stand the thought of being alone. I hate to go to work, but I feel better when I'm there because I can focus on something else besides this "weirdness" I constantly feel inside me. Will I ever feel normal again?

It began when I was 17. I was driving home and all of sudden everything became like a video game. Nothing seemed real and the corners of my eyes started to turn black. The car was closing in on me. I pulled over, got out of the car and called my mom. Mom, Mom, something is wrong!! I can't breath, my vision is weird, I feel weird! Calm down, maybe you just haven't eaten good enough today, you do have a protein deficiency. Ok, ok, calm down. I'm right down the street from home. I can get there. I can get there. It happened a few more times. Once while driving on vacation with my boyfriend and we had to switch drivers while we were still driving so we didn't loose who we were following. I couldn't drive anymore, I was loosing it. I rolled down my window and spent the next hour with my face in the wind and my eyes closed.

It didn't happen again until a year ago. I had been drinking the night before and was hung over. I thought that was all it was. I took some Advil and drank some Alka Seltzer. My heart started racing and my eyes starting feeling funny again. It felt again like nothing was real and I couldn't focus. My chest hurt, I couldn't breath, my hands were shaking and sweating and tingly and numb. I thought I was going to die! It took my husband 2 hours to calm me down while I went from laying in bed to laying on the floor. I finally fell asleep but in a state of terror. I woke up feeling scared but no longer terrified. I was drained.

Then next one happened at work. Same symptoms. I work in a call center and was on the phone with a client. I told her I would have to put her on hold and eventually had to have a co worker take over the call because I couldn't come back to my desk. I knew when it affected my work that I had to do something.

I went to the Dr and they tried to convince me I had a heart problem. I knew better. I'd felt this way before, but I did all their tests which came back fine. I said, I told you so, NOW HELP ME! 1 mg Ativan twice a day, 20 mg of Celexa once a day. Celexa makes me feel sick, almost makes the anxiety worse. I quit taking it but I still take the Ativan. It helps me sleep.

I can get through the day but at night it seems everything catches up to me. I try to lay down and relax in bed and sleep but my brain won't shut off and I start to feel closed in. I pop my Ativan and I start to feel better as I drift to sleep. No one understands what I am going through. My husband thinks I'm crazy. I blame him because if he wouldn't have cheated on me 7 months after we got married the attacks wouldn't have been triggered again. I hate him, I'm angry with him. I hate her, I'm angry with her. I know what's caused them, but what do I do about it now. I go to a therapist. He is awesome. He teaches me about Red and Blue. If you keep thinking Red, all you will see is Red, recognize Red for what it is and think Blue. I practice and practice everyday. I still deal with the anger even though I've made the decision to stay married and honor my vows. I have this garbage to work through.

I start to journal and it's like I am bulimic. I purge everything I have onto my paper. I go through pen after pen, book after book. Pouring out words of hatred and fear. I listen to Blue October 24/7. I carry their words with me like I carry my Bible. I start to feel better everyday but then a memory will come and send me spiraling back down. Now I'm diagnosed with severe panic disorder and depression. They add Wellbutrin, 150 mg. God, will this ever end??? Should I just walk away from my marriage? Will that take the feelings away? No, I can't do that, I love him. God doesn't approve of divorce. He's not cheating, he's being faithful, he's sorry, he's working on it. Forgive and move on.

I read Samantha's book, I don't want to be crazy, and I can't remember when I related to someone more. When she said, it's like I'm in one room and my panic is on the other side of the door, I cry. That's how I feel. My panic is at arms length. I am dependent on these pills so I don't feel the fear. I take everyday one day at a time and try to not miss to much work. I try to function as a mom, but I feel like I'm robbing my son of a real life because mommy can't function. I try to ignore it and sometimes it works. I read any book I can get my hands on and I try all the methods and breathing exercises and writing exercises and all of it seems to be only temporary.

Prayer. I pray constantly. I always have but I'm thinking that the Lord is using this to bring me closer to Him, more dependent on Him. If that is the case I think I can handle the fear. I pray to just know His will.

“Me, meet WhoIWas – A lot has changed, just to let You know.”

Anonymous, age 17.

I am known: like a child, so eager to receive, I take my place. Like a timeline, I make a mark, so afraid to run out of space. This is where I have brought myself, like a choice I just couldn’t make. Like a sudden break, I fall. Like a final failure, I risk it all. This is who I have become, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Like a voice, just a voice, with no words of reason; like charades, and the only one left guessing is me. This is what it’s like to anticipate the fall. Like a wound that refuses to heal or a single moment that changes it all; I am afraid. I am no child, begging to panic. I am not a timeline, counting each second. I am not broken beyond repair or a carless mistake. I want to be heard, to be understood, even by me. I am not left alone to infect myself, to die a lost cause. I assure myself of all these things, reminding myself when I forget. I make sense of it all, trying to tighten my grip, but there is something that brings me closer to the edge, haunting me with fear until all else fades. This is too close for comfort, too real to fake; too much to handle, too blinding to wake. I will not live my life this way. I was made for more than this. So I take myself away, as I try to heal and breakthrough, I encounter the life I’m brought to. Full of refusing to relive my past – this is me, this is who I can be, free of past struggles, no longer controlled by anxiety. This is how far I have come: from child to years down the road, mending together my broken whole, leaving behind the mask; I have a voice that speaks volumes and a life worth living. I am not a victim. I want to break free of how you know me. Are you listening, please? Know nothing about me. Forget about how long it took before I finally could be, just be, without panic or fear. Forget about the attacks that waged, surrounding me. Forget about how I was on my worst day, or on my best. I know it seems necessary to understand, to see it through my eyes, to try to break the fall, but let yourself refocus. All you need to know is I have left behind everything, all of me, except the parts that matter most. I have never forgotten the way it felt, or walked away from the story I have to tell. I know I can reach out, touch the dark places where no one else can reach. I know there is life outside the cage, and a reason to keep breathing. I know, because I’ve been there. Know you are stronger than you think you are. Know, if nothing else, that in ever battle, victory is on its way.

"I can actually breathe now."

Claire Ross, age 15. New York.

Looking back, I can see I've had a problem for a while. Ever since I was little. The insomnia. The panic attacks. The compulsions. The repetition. It's an endless cycle. It was familiar for the longest time, but I never had a name for it until I was diagnosed a little while ago with both Panic Disorder (with Agoraphobia) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. There's something comforting about a label for it. It fits me into my tiny little four sided box. I don't have a choice. I never did. It's been a part of me for so long, for a while I even thought it was normal. Not now. I used stay awake at night worrying that I'm not normal. That my panic disorder defines me. After being on 50 mg of Zoloft for a few months and going to therapy, I've made significant progress, and I've learned that I'm not alone. It's a struggle, but the attacks aren't as frequent. I can actually breathe now. I can sleep. I can focus and function, remotely happily. Finally.

"Help me, Mommy."

Donna, age 49. Connecticut.

My first born child, high school junior,
Handsome, hockey captain
Popular, well-liked
Calls me from the bathroom of his high school,
"Mom, something's wrong...I can't go into class..."

He sits there for hours then escapes to the outdoor bleachers,
Security finds him and escorts him back to his nightmare
"Something is wrong...I can't be here anymore...I need to go home..."
"I need to get out"

Chest pain, sweating, suffocation, heart racing, losing control in front of everyone"

"I can't risk it"
"I feel it in every classroom"
"I can't risk it"
"Help me, Mommy"

My first born child, high school junior,
Handsome, hockey captain
Suffering, in pain,
What do I do?
Forget about scholarships, even college
Just get him to graduate, will he graduate?
Does anybody remember him anymore?

Prozac, clonopin, xanax
Hospital admissions and hospital schools
The "short bus" in our driveway
Beeping so our neighbors could witness the humiliation and
The tears, fighting, expectations denied.

Am I to blame?
What have I done? To my first born son
Who had so much potential
High school senior, now special ed
Lucky if he graduates with a high school degree.
Still handsome, was a hockey captain
Not as popular but well-liked by the few he sees...

I write the college essays...
anything to get him in...
To lead a normal life...
What did I do???
I thought I put the right amount of pressure on him...
but, maybe, it was too much?

I blame myself....for the
Demise of my first born child...
We attended high school graduation but
were outsiders...didn't belong; haven't been there in a while.
Still handsome, disappointing hockey season,
Not popular anymore, few friends,
Prisoner of anxiety.
I love you, Matt.

"Never have I been so scared of myself."

Ashley L., age 16. Chicago.

"Everything seemed normal in my life up to now. I'm passed the issue of having ADD and the depression doesn't bother me that much anymore. Little did I know that things were gonna turn and change in a way I never expected...

On Halloween night, something weird started to happen. My heart started to race, I started breathing harder. The next thing I knew I snapped off at my family and then went to my room. I was going crazy. I broke and rocked myself back and forth. It was the most extreme anxiety attack I've ever had. It didn't even feel like me, it felt as if somebody was taking over me.

Two hours later, my body was still shaking but I was calm. As I lay there on my bed, caressing my head, my best friend to call and check up on me. Never had she been so worried about me and risked getting fired. I was fine for the rest of the night. It happened at church the next day. Never have I been so scared of 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."

"There are people out there who are just like you and me."

Meaghan, age 18. Brooklyn, NY.

"Have you ever tried to describe what a panic attack feels like to someone who’s never had one before? It’s a bunch of conflicting physical and emotional reactions that only other people with them could understand. How could someone be perfectly fine on the subway or in an airplane, but be paralyzed in fear in a shopping mall? I could never quite answer those questions myself. My attacks are very few and far between, but when they hit, they’re crippling. The thought of them always lingers in the back of my mind. I wonder, “Is today going to be the day?” The feelings are so spur of the moment; you can’t help but think of it on occasion. I’ve been told to ignore the fear and anxiety, but it’s impossible to do when all that’s on your mind is the idea of escaping the situation you’re in.

No one has ever been able to fully comprehend what it’s like to go through an attack. That is, until I read I Don’t Want to be Crazy. Someone was going through the same thing I was. A person actually understood what I was going through. I think that’s all I’ve wanted. When I told my doctor about it, she said, “Don’t worry. You can get help for this.” Those were the greatest eight words I could hear at the time. I remember I was so happy and relieved at the time, I ended up crying in the doctor’s office.

Have I gotten a list of therapists? Yes. Have I made an appointment with them? No. I don’t think my parents wanted to fully accept the fact that their daughter could be placed on Klonopin or Paxil to control herself when she’s out in public. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t resent them. Maybe I wasn’t ready to accept the fact that panic disorder could happen to me too. They’ve comforted me; they just have a hard time realizing how panic attacks can truly hurt when they do occur.

That’s why I’m truly excited that this blog has been created, so others can see that there are people out there who are just like you and me.

Stay strong everyone. Xoxo"

"I look at his eyes and wonder what he sees. Is it obvious that I'm sick?"

Lyn, age 29. Virginia.

"The words below are, for the most part, an excerpt from my journal. I wrote it more than a year after it happened, but even now I remember like it was yesterday. In May of 2007, I had an anxiety attack that lasted three days. I hadn't slept. By day three, I had reached a state of psychosis. This isn't my first "episode." I have post-traumatic stress disorder. All it takes for me to "lose it" is a great amount of stress and something that triggers a new traumatic memory. What happens next feels like a tornado in my mind. The tornado only lasts three days before I end up in the psych ward, sedated out of consciousness. The following excerpt is after waking from the sedatives to wander the halls of my new temporary home. This is my first time at this particular psych ward.

Mercy Hospital, May 2007:

"Is this your first time here?" he asks.

My groggy eyes feel heavy and dysfunctional as they scan my surroundings. Long, bare hallway. Doors to patients' rooms lining either side. Fishbowl-like window at the end for nurses to keep a watch on us, safe behind the glass. Locked doors that have labels: Linens, Court Room, Meeting Room 1, Meeting Room 2, Activities Room, Isolation. A locked display case on one wall lists the daily schedule:

7:30 - 8 am: Vitals

8 - 8:30 am: Morning Group Meeting

8:30 - 9 am: Breakfast

9 - 9:30 am: Meds

9:30 - 10 am: Group Therapy

12 - 12:30 pm: Lunch

...and so on.

My eyes veer back to the attending nurse. I look at his eyes and wonder what he sees. Is it obvious that I'm sick? Can he tell how sick I am? Do I look like I've been here before?

It must be a trick question.

"You mean here?" I ask as I point to the floor of the psych ward, "or here?" and I point toward the tornado still whirling in my brain."

"Anxiety.....it's an awful thing. It really does change your life."

From anonymous.

"I'm not going to share my story....because anxiety left me paranoid to death about safety. But I will say this, no matter how weird your symptoms are, you are NOT crazy. This comes from the person who would drip sweat. I don't mean dripping sweat from my pits, but from my whole body. My back and chest would be so sweaty during an attack, that there would be sweat stains in my stomach.

I have yet to find a person who has attacks like me. Attacks that consist of sweat, hot flashes, fear of going crazy, and a little out of breath. (I have what they call limited symptom attacks where instead of having a variety of signs of anxiety, I get 3-4 intense signs. Sounds better than a regular attack, but it's just as bad.)

And you know what? I don't care anymore, but no matter how weird and bizarre our attacks are, we all have one thing in common.....recovery. We all have similar or the same recovery steps. So don't get all worked up because you feel alone with your attacks. Think about how many people are trying to recover with you. We all work on the same positive thinking and meditation. You are not alone, there are many people who are trying to recover just like you.

Tell yourself "bring it on" when your attack comes.

When it comes, pretend you are shaking it's hand. In your head, ask your attack how it is doing. What it is up to. The curious is not nervous it is curious.

Think about how much stronger you are, even if you are not fully recovered. You could still be having issues with anxiety, but dealing with them makes you stronger than almost all of your friends.

Carry things that bring happiness with you. They can be as normal as water and as weird as a piece of your baby blanket.

Meditate

Communicate with people you trust.

For the religious, pray! It helps, it really does.

Exercise

God bless all of you."

"I am above my illness. I am so much more than what is holding me back."

From Paige K., age 15. Pennsylvania.

"I was diagnosed with panic disorder without agoraphobia during my 8^th grade year. The attacks that I was experiencing put me in a state of total fear. I couldn’t breathe, see or move. My body would shut down completely, and I had no control over it. What is worse, these panic attacks used to happen during the school day, and I couldn’t do anything about them. I started slipping in my grades, friendships, and family life. Every single day, I was afraid to wake up because I knew what I would have to face. I went to my mom and begged to see a doctor. I knew it could not be normal. But my pediatrician at the time dismissed my claims, and told me not to worry. It was only an asthma attack. But I knew that it couldn’t have been.

Finally, after many visits, a doctor was able to diagnose my problems. I was sent straight to a therapist, and put on Celexa and Ativan. It was a whirlwind of emotions. I was scared, alone, and I didn’t know how to handle it. The panic attacks were so hard to conquer. No one around me seemed to understand. My teachers didn’t adapt to it – If I had an attack in class, they couldn’t and wouldn’t let me step out. I just had to work through it. Anyone that has experienced these knows that is not something you can just do. I felt like the world was completely against me getting better.

Every attack made my confidence drop. I felt like I would never get to the point of normal life again. But then I read I Don’t Want to be Crazy, and I realized that there were so many other people who knew exactly how I felt. I wasn’t alone, and I was going to be a success just like everyone before me. Three years later, I am still not perfect. I have my moments, and sometimes I go through panic attacks that are worse than they used to be. But with the help of therapists, my medication, and a strong will, I have been able to define myself without saying, “I’m Paige, and I have panic disorder”.

I am above my illness. I am so much more than what is holding me back. I just want anyone out there who is reading this to know that the world is not against your recovery. Just take a step back and look around. There are so many beautiful resources at your fingertips, and you can do it. You just have to be ready and willing to take the first step towards being O.K."