This is a short story of how I became diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety Disorder.

I sat in the sterile doctor’s office, my leg fidgeting with my ever growing anxiety. I hated waiting. To me it was one of the worst things in the world, besides being on a plane.
I tried to chew my nails, but they were already chewed down to nubs. My mother tried to smile over at me reassuringly, but I could see the hint of worry in her eyes. We both had no idea what was going on with me.
I had theories, my Google history would show you that. I thought I could have anything from an uncurable disease to possibly some type of cancer.
I hadn’t been eating for two weeks. Just the thought of eating made me sick. I stopped going to school, or if I went I didn’t last the entire day before I began feeling nauseous again.
Every day was a constant struggle, on the inside as well as out. I stopped putting in effort. My grades fell and I stopped contacting my friends. I stayed hidden in my room for days, only coming out for the odd drink.
My mother went through the worst of it. I couldn’t imagine how she felt watching her only daughter slipping away before her own eyes. She encouraged me to eat, to get some fresh air and sunshine like any normal 14 year old would, but I didn’t feel normal. Far from it. I can’t even remember when things started changing for me. I could hardly remember a time when I didn’t feel dizzy or nauseous.
After about a week of not eating, my mother had seen enough. She took me out to a local grocery store and bought me a slice of pizza, knowing it’s one of my weaknesses. I was able to eat about half of it, which satisfied my mother. She later called our doctor and told him he needed to see me ASAP, that it was an emergency.
So a couple of days later, I sat waiting in his office for his results. We did a blood test and everything had come back normal. He weighed me, and it hit me hard when I read the scale. Within two weeks I had lost 20 pounds from not eating. I always thought about losing some weight, but not this way.
Soon, the doctor finally gave me a final look-over before he told me that I had Generalised Anxiety Disorder. Everything came crashing down. It all made sense, but I never thought that I could have it. I had always begun worrying in the morning right before I went to school, which made me sick. Since my anxiety went untreated it just got worse to the point of me starving myself.
The doctor prescribed me an anti-depressant drug that would help me balance out the chemicals in my brain, and we left. I only made it to the car before I broke down completely and started crying and apologizing to my mom. She asked why, and I told her that now she had a “problem child” to deal with.
She looked me in the eye and told me that no matter what, I would never be a problem child. I will fight my anxiety, and she would always be by my side the whole way. She held me as I continued crying in the car, but I felt as if a big weight had been taken off of me. I knew I had a long journey to understand what I had and how I could get my life back on track, but I was comforted knowing that I wouldn’t be going through it alone.

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