Halfway Point

Hey all!

It took everything in me to not be super nerdy and name this post 'Halfway There' in a slight reference to Livin' On a Prayer' by Bon Jovi and put the lyrics here. But then I'd have the song stuck in my head forever. As a do now... hopefully you do to. Anyway, back on topic and onto the post.

 

It's hard to believe that I've already been here in London for over two months! It really still feels like yesterday that I landed in Heathrow to begin my journey. At the same time, I feel like I've been here long enough that I'm a true Londoner, even if it has only been a few months.

I've been ill this past week so I've stayed in to do some work and try to get better. At the same time, it has also given me a lot of time to reflect on my time here.

Before coming, London was all I could talk about. Even before I was officially accepted, I was constantly talking about it to the point I probably annoyed those around me. But all of my excitement seemed to mask my nerves. The day before I left I confessed to my sister that I was secretly terrified that my semester abroad wouldn't live up to my expectations. That I'd built up this fantasy in my head that the real thing could never possibly live up to. She helped to reassure me that it was just nerves and that I would have the time of my life. As much as I hate to admit, she was 100% right.

A big part of my nerves came from my history with depression and anxiety, particularly my social anxiety. I have never been good at making friends and still struggle with it to this day. And going to a country where I knew no one was absolutely terrifying. I was worried I wouldn't get on with the people in my program, my flat mates, my classes, you get the point. So there was a part of me that worried that I would become I complete hermit, like I used to be. I would do no exploring and simply go to my classes, get food, and hang out in my room. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted. Hello, I'm on a completely different continent, let alone country!

Fortunately, that hasn't been the case. I've done some exploring and done a little bit of traveling, more of that will hopefully come during spring break when I have the whole month of April off. I am a little wary about traveling to countries where I don't know any of the language, but oh well. Part of my wishes I could forget about the school part of study abroad and just travel and explore. Learning and exploring new things could easily fill up my time. I'm one of those people that is just fascinated by things unknown to me.

Probably one of the biggest things that has happened in my time here is that I have learned a tremendous amount about myself. In just a few short months I have learned more about myself than I have in years. I was worried about my depression rearing it's ugly head again in horrible ways. Going back to that time period is something I never want to do as falling back into that deep hole is a scary enough thought. It's truly thrilling to me that it hasn't. And my anxiety hasn't caused me too much trouble. I still have to deal with my social anxiety and the fact that I am horrible at making friends, but that is something that I can deal with, with relative ease. As in, it doesn't make me upset, anymore that is. Then there is the fact that my family is thousands of miles away and although I miss them dearly, it's a great feeling knowing I can manage on my own in a foreign city. Leaving home for Penn State was one thing, I'm only a few hours drive away, London is a totally different story. Even though I still rely on my parents for a few things, it's a step in the right direction. I'm a big girl now! (Jokes, I like jokes).

Because Harry Potter is life and deserves to be on my blog because, Harry Potter.

That's all for now! If there is anything I haven't talked about involving London, etc. that you are interested in, let me know!

Until next time my friends.

Xx

Losing Control: Panic Attacks

(source)

Before I begin I want to not that while anxiety and panic attacks tend to go hand-in-hand, and I don't want make this post super duper long, I'm going to focus on just my panic attacks for this post. I had/have many, many anxieties and want to give anxiety it's proper focus.

Now, onward. 

My heart begins to beat hard and fast. My mind is racing at an uncontrollable pace. My hands begin to shake. My eyes water and tears stream down my face. My throat feels like it is closing and it is hard to breathe.

About 5 minutes later, it's over. I've had another panic attack.

What exactly is a panic attack? Well, a technical definition from mayoclinic.com is, " a panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause. When panic attacks occur, you might think you're losing control, having a heart attack or even dying."

To me, a panic attack is when you suddenly lose control of everything. From your body to your mind, you feel like you have quickly lost control due to reasons that could be unbeknownst to you. Your heart starts to race like you're being chased. Your hands start to shake uncontrollably. You're aware of nothing and everything at the same time. You can often feel like you are having a long-lasting heart attack and no one can help you because you yourself don't even know what's wrong. 

Then the next thing you know, it's over. And you're sat there wondering what the hell just happened and why it happened. You may not even realize you had a panic attack it was that short. Or you just don't even know what to call what happen or you shrugged it off as nervous energy, as it was with me in the beginning.

I often had mini panic attacks in high school. Whether it was over an exam, a field hockey game, where to sit at lunch, they seemed never ending at times. My heart rate would constantly be elevating when I thought about a situation that made me anxious, which quite frankly was all of the time. But I had never really seen one before so I never really realized that was what was happening until summer 2012 when I had a very bad, long one while I was on the phone with my mom. It was over me driving to the movies in Hunt Valley with a friend. I believe it was the driving part that triggered it, however I still don't know for sure.

Now let me back up a little to explain a few things. I have always been an anxious person, I do suffer from pretty bad anxiety; as in it's genetic and a true mental disorder. For the most part, there is no event that has triggered it, also known as Generalized Anxiety Disorder. There really is no one event that I can point to that causes my anxiety except, partially, when it comes to driving. 

I hated driving before I go my license but got it because it was/ is a necessity. The first day of my senior year of high school I was in a horrible car accident that left my car totaled. Before it, I was already an anxious driver but this accident just amplified it. And while I did get behind the wheel again the very next day because I had to drive to school, that didn't stop the heightened anxiety every time I slid into the driver's seat.

Now fast-forward a little and because I was rarely getting behind the wheel, any thought of me driving anywhere would bring on a panic attack, especially if I was driving somewhere I had rarely/never driven too. I basically lived in constant fear. The key to getting over my panic attacks and anxiety was to just drive and drive some more. But in order to do so, I actually had to work up the courage to get in the driver's seat, which was not an easy task.

To make matters worse, driving was not the only thing that caused these panic attacks. The there primary trigger was any thoughts of some sort of social gathering, hell at one point any type of social interactions, not involving my family and my mind immediately triggered a panic attack. While this may seem silly to some, this was my life. It's not that I WANTED to be this anxious and have all of these panic attacks, I just couldn't help it! They come on so suddenly sometimes that there is little time to stop it and you can only do your best to control them when they happen. 

The fact that they can happen at any time means one other thing: they can happen anywhere.

From my house to my car to the store to school, I've basically experienced one in any place you could imagine. This led me to essentially want to never leave the house. I would turn down invitations to parties, meals, etc. because I was terrified about what COULD happen. I became a hermit. I never really made friends. It sucked.

I lived in fear of many situations. I lived in fear of my anxiety. I lived in fear of panic attacks.

(source) 

Due to the sometimes unknown nature of panic attacks as well as potential feelings of embarrassment, there are people who don't talk about their experiences. In turn, some don't get the help that is out there for them. I know I certainly was one of those people. As I mention in my story, I went to therapy. My therapist used Cognitive-Behavior Therapy, or CBT, with me. He helped me re-learn/ reprogram my responses to certain events/ stimuli that triggered my panic attacks. And I want to share a couple of those with you in the hopes that maybe someone else can benefit. Before I do, I want to instill one thing: if you do suffer from panic attacks just know that you are NEVER alone and there are things out there to help. No matter how lonely and scared you feel because of what you go through, you are never alone.

(As a quick side note, I feel like I should also mention that I am also medicated and that has also played a major role in helping me overcome my anxiety. This came about after conversations with both my therapist AND my physician as something that would be beneficial for me. They don't work for everyone. While I am for giving them a try I certainly DO NOT think this is a topic to take lightly. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS, consult with your doctor and listen to them. There's a reason they have the degrees they do.)

For me, deep breathing has been the main thing. My focusing on my breathing and that alone, I am able to relax, calm down, and return to 'normal'. If I feel a panic attack coming, no matter where I am, I do my best to stay quiet and focus in on controlling my breathing. I also try and make sure to stay positive in my thinking as I am doing so. Thinking, "Calm down! Don't be anxious! You're fine; quit worrying! Stop over-thinking! It's no big deal," only makes things worse because it works me up. I am sure others feel the same way. So I try to tell my self, "Focus. Deep breaths. Slow breaths. You're fine. There is nothing wrong it's just in your head. You are stronger than you think. You will be okay." 

Another way I have attempted to control them that may help others is that I began to be cognizant of when they occurred. I tried to note whenever I could when I had a panic attack. This actually really helped. I noticed that I hate sudden changes. I hate being unprepared. I hate being rushed. I hate knowing I might be late. This led me to learn how to go-with-the-flow more and take control. It took some 'baby steps', if you will, on my part but ultimately I have curbed the amount of potential panic attacks in those situations. That is not to say that I don't still like having a schedule/ being prepared, I definitely do, I have just learned that there are times where I have to be more flexible There are just times where things are out of my hands and I just need to roll with the punches all the while recognizing that a panic attack may arise.

In the past 12 months I have only had ONE panic attack. That was last month over a class and I'd like to think I handled it far better than I had previously. There have definitely been some other close calls however over time the previously mentioned methods have allowed me to manage them far better than I used to. Thinking about that now is almost freeing. If I can do it, so can you. Hopefully by sharing my experience some of you feel better and less alone in this. Panic attacks/disorders are one of the most treatable problems so if you want to change, in the wise words of Béla Károlyi "you can do it."

Xx

Perfect Imperfections - My Smile

*Bloggers note: This was the first ever post on my blog and the first of this series but I didn't like it so I revamped it a little and reposted it. So it you think you've read this before, you may very well have. I'm going to redo all of the posts in this series but I won't delete the old posts until I redo them individually.*

I used to hate myself. I despised myself. This mentality went on for so long that there was a point where there was not one thing I liked about myself. So it was no wonder that I believed no one could like me either. Within the last year I decided to make a change that coincided with my seeking help for my depression and anxiety. I have learned to appreciate all of the things, big/small and/or genuine/superficial that make me who I am and separate me from everyone else.

My perfect imperfections.

I've found that one of the first things people tend to notice when they meet someone for the first time, and contributes to their first impression of said person, is their smile. And what was the number one thing I hated most about myself for basically my whole life? You guessed it, my smile.

Genetically, I was cursed from both sides of the family. This isn't to say both sides of my family have bad teeth, they don't (and there are many people from both sides with GORGEOUS smiles….lucky bastards ;) ), they're just not the strongest of teeth physically. To add on top of that, my mom took antibiotics whilst pregnant with me, and as a result I had marks on my teeth before they even grew in. Weak enamel + 2 years of braces (and some admittedly not so top notch brushing on my part) = calcuim-deposit markings galore on my teeth. Not to mention, I had buck teeth that stuck out with a gap in-between them (Thank goodness for braces).

This lead to me hating to smile. I was embarrassed. It wasn't necessarily the shape of my smile, but what was inside of it if that makes sense. in my mind, people wouldn't like me because of my disgusting smile. Sure, my teeth were straight, and the shape of my smile is quite nice, but who wants to look at someone with a smile that is not pearly white and has marks all over them? Not me.

Fortunately for me, this is the 21st century and there are ways to fix the markings. I didn't go all the way and get veneers because that destroys the real tooth and at my age that it simply not needed, but I did have bonding done. In short, my teeth were roughed/ etched a little and my dentist applied a resin that was similar to my natural color.  It was kind of like getting a filling done in a way. The only teeth I've had done so far have been my front top 6 have and I honestly could not be happier with the results. Even if I don't end up getting anymore teeth bonded, I would probably be okay with that. After all, most people don't see the bottom teeth and those are not nearly as bad as the top were. But it is amazing how much a relatively short appointment, well actually it took 2 appointments for those 6, can change your view of yourself. I honestly remember not being able to stop smiling after I got them done. It wasn't as if they were bright white afterwards, and they still aren't, but there were not any marks. None. Those marks that had made me so self-conscious for years were gone in a few short hours. My teeth were finally one color.

Now, my teeth may not be pearly white but I am no longer scared of what people think when I smile. I don't worry that people are judging me harshly because of what I thought was a disgusting smile. 

I've learned to be proud of my smile. My smile may not be perfect, and it may still not be
pearly white", but it is me. And dammit I like it.

This is my 2nd grade yearbook picture. Those teeth speak for themselves.

 Seventh grade mere weeks before those braces came off and I realized how bad the marks on my teeth were, in part due to the fact that I constantly had power-chains on my braces. 

And this is me now.

Fear of Failure

I have an intense fear of failure.

I've never coped well with failure. It is safe to say I used to react horribly and it greatly contributed to my struggles with depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. I won't lie, on occasion I still do react badly it is just  not as often. For me, most of my fears of failure have always stemmed from primarily one source: school.

In middle school and my first year of high school, I cried when I got Bs on exams/ projects. Literally. Eventually I "loosened up" and became okay with getting Bs, but they were acceptable to me only in my AP classes. My parents never had to put any pressure on me about schoolwork because I did it myself more than needed. If anything they would tell me to ease up a little. And during field hockey games, I would tear up if I ever let up a goal in a close game because I felt like I was failing my team. I remember when we lost in the state semi-final my sophomore year and in the state final my junior year I thought the losses were all my fault; I was the goalie after all, the last line of defense. Looking back now this all seems pretty silly, but back then it was perfectly normal to be. I stressed myself out so much over making sure I succeeded in school and so I graduated with over a 4.0 GPA that I had no social life because I burned myself out over schoolwork. And thus I was stressed over my lack of a social life and felt like a failure in that category as well; but that is different story for a different day.

I managed to make it through my first 3 semesters of college without really having to worry about getting anything lower than a B in a class. (Duh, most of my classes up until that point were mainly Gen Eds aka General Education courses - except Russian, I took Russian. That was hard.) Then came my spring semester of my sophomore year. Now, I have always been a person who is better at writing papers than taking exams. Much to my chagrin, I took a physiology course where my entire grade consisted of only 5 exams, your lowest of which was replaced by participation points(for most like me - a 100%). I would walk into my exams relatively confident that I would do decently and every. single. time. I would see my grade and nearly burst into tears. Only twice did I score higher than an F: the first and last exam, and they were barely Cs. I had to study like I have never studied before just to get that 73% on the final to ensure I would get the C I needed to pass that class and not have to retake it. This was the first C I ever received as a final grade. I know C means average and getting Cs is very common, just not for me.

But you know what? I'm damn proud of that C. I worked my tush off for it. I realized you can't be perfect at everything and in every class. After all, "Cs get degrees". Even though the old me would have been crippled in sadness over getting that C because to me it used to scream "you're a failure", I didn't necessarily feel like one. Because I knew/ know I'm not one. I felt like I understood that I couldn't always get the grades I wanted simply because not everyone can be good at every subject. Sometimes the material just will never fully click with you in certain subjects. And that is okay.

Picture credit

Then about a month ago I was faced with another difficult challenge: I realized I may have to drop a class. I bombed an exam. Like really bombed. There's no light way to put it. Despite studying for hours that day before the exam and feeling pretty darn confident walking out of it, I just bombed it. I guess I should mention that I only go to this class half of the time because one of the days it's my only class and it isn't until 4:15. I live off campus and honestly it is hard to work up the desire to go even though I like the material and my professor is awesome. When I got this particular exam grade I was in another class waiting for it to start, and I broke down crying. I also got my grade for a small paper for the same class back, and that grade was horrible. I just lost it.

Getting a C is one thing, but admitting I am doing so poorly in a class I may need to drop it in order to not have an F on my transcript? Me? The girl who graduated top 5% of her class? The girl who has always prided herself on being strong at academia? This can't be happening. It just can't, not to me anyway. I was like I was losing part of my identity. 

After many tears shed and a few heart felt conversations, I've reached the point where I am comfortable with the fact that I may have to drop and retake the class despite my best efforts. I've done all I can at this point and maybe I have already dug too deep a hole to climb out of, this semester. That's what drop credits are for anyway, right? No matter how comfortable I feel about what I may have to do at the end of the semester, facing failure is an overall horrible feeling. I've had to learn that I can't be a perfect student and that academics don't define me anymore but this doesn't mean I am a failure. Grades don't make the person and don't tell the full story about one's intelligence despite common beliefs. I think I'm still coming to terms with that.

Sometimes you have to fail because failure and your response to it makes you stronger and helps you grow as a person. It makes you learn quite a lot about yourself. It's an unavoidable fact of life.

But boy can it be a tough pill to swallow.

Talk to y'all soon!

Xx

For Me

"She looks uptight as f***."

I may have had my headphones in, but I'm not deaf. And I may have had my sunglasses on, but I could still see you.

I was sitting on a bench eating lunch outside of the building my next class was supposed to be in since I still had about an hour before I needed to head inside. My old anxieties began to resurface immediately. Do I actually look uptight? Am I dressed funny? Am I too overdressed? Am I wearing too much makeup? Is my makeup noticeably running? Etc. Etc.

But that's where the "new" me decided to overpower the "old" me.

I looked down at my outfit and thought to myself, "I think I look cute. And that's all that matters."

In high school, I dressed to not stand out. I wanted to blend in no matter how different it was from what I actually wanted to wear. I was just too terrified of being negatively judged to be the real me. And I would be hard on myself because I knew I wasn't being 100% me, so I wasn't happy. When I would look in the mirror, I would constantly overanalyze my appearance to make absolutely sure no one could view me negatively. Of course I would constantly over think any glance my direction when I would be at school, and obviously all glances were negative in my mind, but I tried to "reduce" my then-unrealized (I realized them but didn't know they were anxieties/ refused to admit them) anxieties. Now I know that this is what tremendously helped contribute to my depression and my eventual downward spiral.

I could ramble on and on about this topic and I know I am far from the only person who gets self-conscious about what they wear. But at the end of the day, I dress for me and me alone. You dress for you and you alone. My thought process now is that as long as I like it, then that's all that matters. Confidence is a girl's best accessory and if someone is judging you for your appearance, then that says more about them than you.

Now, I'm not saying I don't judge people because let's be honest, most of us do. I just don't voice it. We all have our own style and views on fashion. In my opinion, there is no "correct" style. There is only "your" style that is strictly you. It's what makes you, you.

And honestly, it's better to be you and be different than lie to yourself and hid who you are. Even if it means turning a few heads.

xx