For English we had to write an essay making something personal into a public service announcement. Naturally, I chose mental illness. This is my personal aspect:

Self preservation is the body’s natural instinct to protect itself from harm or death. In times of starvation, a human will resort to cannibalism, or in times of extreme stress, our sympathetic nervous system will release adrenaline in a “fight or flight” response. So what happens with our brains fight with our bodies on whether or not to live? When the brain wants nothing more to kill itself off than the body naturally tries to keep going? Mental illness is a personal plague. 

There is no dramatic moment of impact to start my story with a bang because it’s something that’s haunted me for my entire life. I thought coming to college would be different. I had a fantastic summer and senior year. I made friends who didn’t make me doubt whether or not they wanted to hang out with me, whether or not they thought I was weird because I didn’t talk much at first and took a long time to open up to anyone. They accepted me for who I was, which never happened before. For the first time in my life, I was happy. The problem with that was that I never actually went to a doctor to fix what was going on inside my head; this periodic happiness made me forget what it was like to sit alone in my room my entire junior year as a zombie with no social interactions. I forgot what it was like to be scared to face the day. I was blossoming into somebody people could want to be around and was starting to accept myself.

I thought college would turn out okay. Of course I was scared, but I thought I would be able to handle it. That’s when I noticed by rapid decline within the 3 day span of orientation. I am 18 years old, I am an adult, and I recognized that I needed professional help because if I went back to the way I was, I wouldn’t make it out. Naturally I looked up information on the counseling center and when they told me I needed to wait two weeks for an intake, I freaked out. Two long, unbearable weeks. I was riddled with my anxiety, my panic attacks, everything I was accompanied by that miserable junior year when I was at my worst was coming back and I was drowning. School started quickly, I stopped sleeping. I’d wake up each day exhausted, fearing the day. Even putting makeup on or changing my clothes was a strenuous task. This time was different because I was no longer able to concentrate on my schoolwork. I’ve had concentration issues before but never to the point of my grades suffering. I am smart, I graduated my rigorous high school with a 3.5 GPA, and I’m starting off my semester failing. 

2 long weeks went by and I had my first intake ever at the counseling center only for them to tell me I need to see a psychiatrist because they think I have severe anxiety and they’re not sure if all my problems stem from that or if there’s other factors. I needed medicines to help me cope and she warned me the wait to see one could be a long time, maybe two weeks. And I needed to tell my parents so I can find out about insurance which was something terrifying. I like my parents but I’m not close enough with them to talk to them about these things, I can’t talk to anyone about these things. So I leave the office with a reference, call my mom up to tell her about it. “It’s about time you’re going to one, you’ve needed to go for years now, I’m so proud of you”. With her permission I call up the psychiatrist to be told the nearest appointment is November. Two entire months. Nearly an entire semester. I can’t wait that long to see one because I am being crippled by my mental disabilities every single day. It’s interfering with my everyday functioning, my sleeping and eating habits. My inability to concentrate leaves me with spending hours upon hours that I’m not in class doing mass amounts of homework that take me way longer than it should. I have no motivation, why should I bother? 

I can’t tell you the last time I looked into a mirror other than a brief glance to see nothing is too disheveled or there’s no marks on my face. I’m haunted with the idea of perfectionism, I’m obsessive; everything has so much overthinking that comes with it. I’m socially inept. I’ve barely made one friend since I’ve been here because the idea of talking to people I’m not comfortable with is incapacitating. Unfortunately, I am only brushing on the everyday struggles I have to go through living with mental illness. And I am not alone.