"Stop being a worrywart!"
"Nothing's wrong with you!"
"You're such a hypochondriac!"
"Why are you so scared of everything?!"
"Abbie's so sensitive!"
"You're so weird!"
I heard all of these statements (in addition to many, many others) most of my childhood. What I didn't know then - and only learned much later - was that I've been suffering with undiagnosed anxiety my entire life. But growing up in an Irish-Catholic family, I learned pretty early on that we don't talk about our feelings - instead, we push them down, and forget they ever existed.
So it's not surprising that I didn't have the vocabulary to completely explain what was going on in my growing, anxious-wired brain. It wasn't until 6th grade, when I was forced to receive therapy for my eating disorder, that I started taking anti-depressants - and yet it still didn't click until my adult life that my eating disorder wasn't the only issue. **Again (in case you've forgotten already), in my family - when you're sick, you go to the doctor to fix it, and then it's over. It's a one-and-done kinda deal.** There's no processing emotions, no divulging into how we feel. And if you really felt like you were struggling, you went to confession at church...which only led to me feeling guilt ridden by the amount of 'Hail Mary's' and 'Our Father' prayers you were assigned as penance. Guys - Catholic guilt is NO. JOKE. In my opinion, they really need to re-vamp the whole Catholic school system, because the number of people I've empathized with who are traumatized by their experiences is ridiculous.
But I digress....Looking back, I wasn't only just scared of the typical (clowns, roller coasters, going to school without my mom, etc)….I also remember spending hours and hours each day worrying about the 'What-if's" in the world (think car crashes, potential tornadoes, fear of getting lost or kidnapped, etc). Things spiraled into an all out panic if my mom didn't pick me up from my grandma's at EXACTLY 4:15 pm (because I knew she got off at 4, and the distance from her work to my location was only a 15 minute drive). And then after seeing a 20/20 special about a girl who was kidnapped from her bedroom, I spent an ungodly amount of time making sure all our doors and windows were locked before I went to bed - only to worry that I'd somehow forgotten one, so I'd have to go through the entire sequence again (there was probably undiagnosed OCD in there as well). Of course things really got out of control when I was diagnosed with an eating disorder, as my sense of control and need for perfection only escalated to food, exercise and body image.
To be honest, re-writing all of this history makes me EXHAUSTED. I want to send so much compassion to little Abbie, because she was only trying to do her best with what she knew. Like one of my favorite mentors shared with me: "You don't know what you know, until you know it." I so wish I would have known (or someone could have shared with me) that I wasn't weird. None of my other friends or classmates seemed to be so terrified about little things like me, or at least they didn't show it. But still to this day, I don't have a good poker face. I wear my emotions on my sleeve - if I'm angry, I'm irritable. If I'm sad, there are most likely tears flowing (and I recluse to be alone so no one sees me). If I'm anxious - well, it shows up in many different ways: headache, nausea, frustration, erratic heartbeat, wobbly knees, full blown panic attacks, or this intense feeling of 'loom and doom' that is difficult to fully explain... 
So why am I writing this post on anxiety? Because I want to get the message out that if you are struggling, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. And no matter what your family, friends, partner, strangers, or anyone else thinks, needing to seek treatment isn't the result of a faulty personality trait. I also learned this the hard way - in high school, I stopped taking my Zoloft cold turkey (PSA: don't do that) because I thought anti-depressants 'weren't cool.' Excluding the immediate side effects of NOT tapering appropriately off SSRI medications, being un-medicated the early part of my adult life led me to suffer from terrible post-partum anxiety after Eli's birth, followed by extreme panic attacks and anxiety/depression after we moved to Minnesota. It took me way too long to understand what was going on, let alone to start medications and therapy again; so I don't want that to happen to you, either.
Am I saying that therapy, medication, or any other treatment will be an end to all your worldly worries? Absolutely not. In Buddhism tradition, there is something called 'The 4 Noble Truths;' the first being 'Life is suffering.' Read it again: LIFE. IS. SUFFERING. This means that just by being human, suffering is inevitable (from pain, changes, loss, etc). Now these specific stressors are not in our control, but what can be in our control is how we handle stress.
But let me make it clear: you cannot control your genetic predisposition to anxiety; nor can you just 'turn it on or off' like a light switch. Instead, there are action steps you can take to help alleviate your symptoms (as I mentioned above with therapy and medicine). I will be the first to go on record that there is NO STIGMA in needing additional external resources - give me ALL the medication and ALL the therapy! It is literally the best :)
So if I could give pre-teen Abbie one piece of advice, what would that be? Well, my friend Bob Marley, (oh, how I wish that were true) says it perfectly:
I prefer this quote so much more over his other famous "Don't worry, be happy" for a number of reasons: the main being that 'happiness' just isn't realistic all the time. Instead, reminding myself that no matter how tough things get, no matter how low things may seem, and no matter what barriers I face, the truth will always end up being that "Every little thing is gonna be alright"....now that's something I can get behind. :)
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