When people talk about university, they often say “it was the best few years of their life”. However, not everyone’s narrative echoes this. As my undergraduate university chapter comes to an end, I have found myself reflecting on the experience. It has been a journey complete with ebbs and flows but one that I value and feel strengthened by. Starting university or moving away from home is monumental for anyone, but for someone who struggles with anxiety it is particularly hard. Leaving home (my safe place), friends, and family was hard enough let alone having to adjust to a new environment and meet new people – hello sensory overload! Needless to say, I found it hard. The feeling of loneliness was uncomfortable, and the new founded independence was overwhelming. Even the smallest of tasks such as making breakfast felt like climbing a mountain. However, I got through it. I visited home at weekends to recharge, I focused on my degree and worked hard, and incrementally chal
Having just been told by my therapist that I no longer meet the diagnosis for an anxiety disorder you would think that I would be excited and overwhelmed. Rather, I don’t know how I feel. In fact it is a combination of juxtaposing emotions that undoubtably don’t make sense. However, when you look at my journey to recovery it seems more coherent that I don’t understand or know how to react. Having been diagnosed and subsequently labelled as an individual with an anxiety disorder since I was age 11, people who are close to me and particularly myself adapted to accommodate this disorder. Safety behaviours became concrete in my daily routine and certain events were avoided as a preventative measure of relapse or simply a panic attack. As a consequence, life without an anxiety disorder became hard to imagine or even believe was possible. In fact, it was the accommodation of the anxiety disorder which propelled and maintained the existence of anxious thoughts. Without change, life beyo