I'm Not Okay

Later

Have you ever looked in a mirror, and not understood what was looking back at you. I mean, have you ever just stared so intensly at your reflection that you begin to see some foreign entity. And this thing looking back at you, this thing that claims to be you, is something that your own brain can’t comprehend. You try to make yourself believe that it is just the boogeyman, or maybe some other mythical creature who has chosen you to be it’s next victim? It would be too easy if it was just bloody mary, looking to take you into the underworld, or even a demon waiting to drag you straight to hell. In all reality, this thing is not some made up monster, this thing is you. Every scar on it’s battered face, is a scar someone left on you. All of the skin peeled away from its bare body, is a part of you that somebody stole. And the big hole where it’s heart should be, shows the reflection of an organ that has slowly disappeared.

When you stare long enough in a mirror, you start to see everything you have tried so hard to cover up. Every smile is to hide the immense pain that constantly radiates throughout your body. Every I’m okay, whispered through a defeated mouth.

As I look at this mirror placed so perfectly inside this staff restroom, I see this monster that I have tried so hard to hide from the world. This stupid, evil beast that has slowly become me.

You see, a few minutes ago, my coworker, Chris, tried to have a conversation with me. It was a simple exchange, or at least it should have been. It started out fine, but then he asked that question. The only question that has the ability to throw my body into fight or flight, where I choose none of the above and instead convince myself that I am actually dying. The question; Are you okay?

When I heard those words my body decided that the best response was to have a complete mental breakdown. Tears started pouring out of my eyes and every last drop of precious air decided to abandon my body. Right before my coworker could see me dissolve into an emotional mess, I ran into our bathroom. I will admit, it’s not the best place to have an anxiety attack, but it works for now.

Let me introduce myself, My name is Alejandra Vanessa Sanchez, but most people call me Alex or Ale. I live a pretty ordinary life. I work two jobs. Both are part time and both are for cities. If I am not at work, then more than likely you can catch me at school. I go to school full time, and am majoring in History, but that’s only because I have absolutely no clue what I actually want to do with my life. I know I don’t want to be a historian or a teacher, but history is an easy major to fall back on. At least, that’s what my brother told me.

I do give myself some free time, which I occupy by teaching at my local church. I’ve been volunteering there for about five years, so when the opportunity came up for me to teach, I jumped on it. I have made some pretty good friends while volunteering there, and because of that, no matter how busy my schedule gets, I will always make time for it. It’s just one of those things that is extremely important to me.

I guess the last thing you should know about me is that I have anxiety. Okay, well, i’ve never actually officially been diagnosed, but anxiety is one of those things that doesn’t need a proper diagnosis. I know it’s kind of awkward to add anxiety to your list of things that need to be said when you introduce yourself to someone, but in my case, it’s critical. My anxiety plays a bigger part in my life than any other aspect of it. It’s something that I deal with daily, and it’s something that continues to ruin my life every second of every day.

It all started when I was a freshmen in High School. I started getting these weird crying episodes. I would just freak out randomly, and I couldn’t help it. I would cry for what seemed like hours, and over small things like missing the bus or losing a pen. None of it made any sense, until I started my sophomore year. I was walking to one of my classes with my best friend when something hit me. I couldn’t breathe. It’s like the world started moving so slowly and I was trying to catch my breath, but I didn’t even know what had taken it away. My friend saw me start to freak out and tried to calm me down, but I couldn’t. You know that feeling where you haven’t eaten in awhile, so you start to feel really weak? Your hands start shaking and you can feel the emptiness inside your body from where the food should be. That’s how I felt. I felt this mixture of emptiness, and nervousness, and I didn’t know where it came from. I couldn’t go to class that day, my friend took me to the nurse, and I slept. The nurse asked me what happened because I guess I was too incoherent when he brought me in to answer any of her questions. I listed all of the symptoms, and that’s when she said the word. She asked, Do you have anxiety? Because it sounds like you had an anxiety attack.

I just shrugged. I had never even heard of the word before, so I didn’t know if I had it or not. But, when later that week I experienced the same kind of attack, I became aware of the fact that I may have it. Now, five years later, i’m positive that what I experienced that day was an anxiety attack. I know because I still experience them the same way. Each time I have one, I think back to that one day, where I was just walking to class. Where I was just a normal teenager, until I wasn’t.

For years, nobody really knew I had anxiety. I kept it hidden so deep inside of me that no one ever suspected that I was literally dying on the inside. But, that’s how I liked it. I was okay that only my best friend at the time knew what I was going through. I was okay that I had to depend on myself to get through the hard days. I was okay with it all, but then a spider- induced anxiety attack forced me to tell my parents about it. Once they found out that I had been struggling with this for years, my mom kind of flipped. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t tell her something as important as me having anxiety, and I couldn’t explain to her why I didn’t feel the need to tell her. Basically it left our relationship pretty broken. She never really trusted me after that, and I stopped turning to her when I needed help with something, anxiety related or not.

My anxiety wasn’t just a strain on my mom’s and mine relationship, it affected my relationship with my whole family. I have four siblings, and the relationship with them all changed when I told them about it.

My oldest brother, Marcus, is 34. He has a wife and two kids, so the news didn’t really affect him. He was just a little bummed out that I couldn’t turn to him about something that I was going through, especially since we were always so open with each other about things going on in our lives. He told me that he felt like I was trying to hide from him, and if i’m being honest, he was right. Marcus owns a super successful Auto Detailing business. He even details the cars for some t.v studio executives. If I would have told him that I was having anxiety about just going to school, I feel like he would have laughed at me. He dealt with a lot worst while he was growing up, and even though he went through a lot, he still managed to make something of himself. So, how was I supposed to tell him that I couldn’t even manage school? I couldn’t.

Then there’s my oldest sister Lauren. She’s 32, and has a husband and three kids. When I was growing up, she was really the one that took care of me. My parents worked a lot so she was the one who would dress me, take me to school, pick me up. I even used to call her mom. Our relationship was amazing. I told her everything, and she reciprocated. So, her finding out through my mom, of all people, about my anxiety hit her hard. She would always ask me if it was something she did that made me not want to talk to her about it, but it wasn’t. I tried explaining that there was times that I really wanted to tell her, but that my head got in the way. She stopped coming to me with her problems because she felt like I couldn’t handle it or like I didn’t want to handle it. Then, I guess, I stopped going to her. My relationship with her is the one that broke the most, and it’s the one thing I regret.

Next, is my brother, Michael. The relationship I have with him didn’t change when he found out about my anxiety. At first I thought he didn’t care, but I soon realized that he didn’t want to push me away by voicing his opinion on something he knew nothing about. I found myself clinging onto him when every other relationship was failing, and I don’t think he really minded. Especially since he still lives with my parents and I. Some days I worry that he is going to move out before I do, because then I won’t have him at my disposal anymore. But, he is 26, and the time for him to start moving on and away is approaching, and that scares me a little.

Finally, there’s Stephanie. She’s 25 and has the two cutest daughters. We actually used to have an amazing relationship, but then it just changed. It wasn’t like what happened with Lauren, Stephanie didn’t feel upset that I didn’t go to her with the information, it was almost like she was mad that I was weak enough to experience anxiety. She held me up to a high standard and I guess I just failed to meet it. I remember her telling me that I should have just kept my anxiety to myself, and it was after she said that, that I knew I was nothing but a disappointment to her. Everything i’ve done since then has yet to please her. And, I guess i’m over trying to be the perfect little sister for her, because i’m not.

It’s not all bad though, my dad is super supportive of me. Ever since the second he found out, he has not let a day go by without telling me how proud he is of me for fighting the way I do. It makes it easier to have broken relationships with your brother and sisters if your dad is on your side too. I really don’t know what I’d do without him. I just wish everyone was as supportive. But, at least I have one person who will fight for me, even on the days that I can’t fight for myself.

Sometimes I sit, wondering if my whole life will be like this. Most times, I get scared because a huge part of me fears that this is what I have to look forward to. Scared that my life will just be filled with anxiety and broken relationships. But, I can say this, a small part of me believes that I am going through this right now so that later on in my life, I don’t. So that later on, my life will be filled with such amazing adventures and amusement. There are times when I can literally see myself being more than just an anxiety ridden 19 year old, and that thought gets me through the days where I can’t see anything other than my anxiety. That dream keeps me fighting, even on my toughest days.

I hear banging on the restroom door, and as much as I want to give some assurance to Chris that I am okay, I don’t feel like lying right now. So, I take a seat on the toilet and try to breathe through the unbearable pain that lingers in my lungs from the lack of oxygen.

After another few minutes of hyperventilation and tears, I finally get the strength to wipe away the water from my eyes, and walk outside of the bathroom that has oddly enough become my safety blanket within these past few minutes.

I take my first step out, trying my best to fake a believable smile, but probably failing. I look over at the six-foot guy who looks about ready to break down the door. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes just stay planted on me, waiting on me to explain what the hell just happened. I smile at the confused boy, praying that he doesn’t ask any questions. But, my prayers must not have been heard because I hear, Hey, uhhh, Alex, are you okay?

Why wouldn’t I be? The forced grin on my face begins to hurt my jaw so I let it go and walk away from Chris. Chris, the coworker who just saw me spontaneously run into a bathroom mid way through a conversation, follows me to the front.

His voice becomes more concerned as he says, Are you sure? I mean, you just ran into a restroom, and stood in there for a while. Are you sick? Do you need to go home?

Yes, I am sick, but not in the way he thinks. I turn around and answer, No, i’m good Chris. I was feeling a little queasy, but i’m better, I quickly change the subject, Don’t we have that wedding we have to set up for? The one in Terrace Room.

Chris nods his head and replies, Yeah we do, but I just want to make sure you’re okay before I leave to set it up.

The words, I’m fine, come flying out of my mouth and as they do I begin to walk away from Chris, and walk toward the cash register at the front desk.

He follows me to the front and starts, Okay then. If you’re positive you are fi-,

I interrupt, I am.

He continues, Then, I will head to the Terrace Room and start the setup, you can cash out up here and then meet me back there when you are done.

I nod my head, and take a seat next to the register. Chris starts to walk away and as he turns the corner he yells out Remember, there’s a few checks under the register.

Yeah, got it! I open the cash register, hoping to find a small stack of cash but am disappointed when I see stacks of 20’s, 10’s, and 5’s awaiting me to count and sort them. Yippee for me, I thought to myself quietly.

I find myself getting distracted by everything, and before I know it 15 minutes pass.

Alex? Are you done? Chris’s voice rings through the hall. I look at the stacks of money that stay sitting on the desk in front of me and try to think of an excuse on why none of it is counted.

Almost Chris. I thought we were missing some money, but I found it. I’ll be there in a sec.

Okay, hurry. I hear his footsteps go down the hallway and eventually disappear into the Terrace Room. I immediately focus my attention onto the money and start to count the never ending stacks of cash that is in front of me. After what seems like an hour, I finally finish the tedious job of cashing out. I throw the envelope filled with money into my manager’s office and head over to meet up with Chris.

What Up Chris! I yell over to the man who is setting down tables in a circular fashion. His head pops up as he yells back, Took you long enough!

Well i’m here now. What’s the setup? I try to look around the hall for the diagram but can’t spot it.

It’s done. Can you just move those chairs to the other side please? He finishes putting down the table that he was working on, and I head over to the stack of chairs that are sitting on the far end of the hall.

As i’m moving the chairs, Chris sneaks up behind me and places his hand on my right shoulder. I look at him confused. He just says, Are you okay?

I feel my breath begin to get uneasy, and I try to find an escape route, but I don’t see any. Yeah, why do you ask?

Because, you locked yourself in the restroom. If you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to, It’s just tha-

I interrupt him, Look, I appreciate you wanting to help. It’s just that it’s complicated to explain and I don’t think you’d really want to hear it. I begin to move the chair stack again when I hear, Try me.

Every inch of my body is telling me not to trust this guy. But to be fair, every inch of my body tells me not to trust anyone. I try to think of a simplified way of explaining what just happened. You know, without scaring him away, so I settle on, I’m just really stressed right now. I guess it all just got to me at once.

He looks at me and asks, What are you stressed about?

And here we go. The million dollar question that everyone assumes I have the answer to. What am I stressed about? Let me make both of our lives easier and tell him what doesn’t stress me out. Because basically everything does. Being late,