I want to tell you all about a specific experience relating to my mental health that I had with a teacher in my junior year of high school. I think this story is a perfect example of the lack of education that teachers have regarding mental health and how to accommodate students who are struggling. 

A quick side note of just my own personal opinion; I am a strong believer that teachers should be flexible with accommodating anyone who is struggling with their mental health whether they have a diagnosed illness or not. You don’t have to be diagnosed for your stress levels to impact your mental stability to the point where it affects your ability to perform well in school from time to time.

    Anyway, back to the story. 

Like I said, in my junior year of high school I had an interaction with my pre calc teacher that will be embedded in my brain for as long as I live, and for all of the wrong reasons.

First, a little background for the story. 

I have developed a condition called stress induced chronic ocular migraines due to suffering through two severe concussions mixed with my PTSD and anxiety. However, I did not have a diagnosis for this at the time of the incident, it was actually during the peak 2 month period of going from doctor to doctor trying to figure out why I was suddenly having problems with my vision. 

    **Some more clarification if you’re interested, this is not necessary to know for the story but I’ll share just in case you may think this relates to you or if you’re just interested. The first time I noticed something was wrong, I was studying for an APUSH (AP US History) test that I had the next day. One second I was reading the textbook and the next second my vision was gone. I thought maybe it was because I was wearing my glasses for too long (I got glasses a few months prior thinking that I had a stigmatism because I had experienced much less extreme cases of my vision slightly blurring when trying to read but never anything even remotely close to this). Anyway, I digress, I took off my classes, rubbed my eyes a little bit, and waited until my vision came back a little and tried to start reading again. Every other minute my vision would once again fade to the point where I could not make out the words on the pages. Obviously this freaked me out, I had a panic attack, and the next day my mom and I began the hunt for the right doctor to determine what was going on. I went to about 5 different doctors, first the doctor that prescribed my glasses for the “stigmatism”, then my concussion specialists, ophthalmologists, until I finally ended up at a neuro-ophthalmologist and after many tests he suggested that I am experiencing migraines and sent me to a migraine specialist. 

ANYWAY, this story takes place during that time of going from one doctor to another, more specifically it was actually between going to the neuro-ophthalmologist and the migraine specialists so I finally had an idea what the problem was but not necessarily a confirmed diagnosis. 

This story starts off with having a test in the class. Let’s also keep in mind I was obviously missing A LOT of school going to all of these doctors appointments and then even more school going to the school psychologist all the time because this was obviously taking a huge toll on my mental health not knowing what was wrong with me. So anyway, I have a test in the class and even though I missed a lot of the lessons for the unit the teacher still expected that I would be taking the test at the same time as the rest of my class. 

    I FORGOT TO MENTION 

I also tried multiple times to meet with this teacher the week leading up to the test as soon as she announced that there was going to be a test and for a number of reasons, some on her end and some on mine, it never worked out. One of the reasons I couldn’t make it one of the days was actually because of a really heavy and personal situation regarding my life at home (we don’t need to get into it now but if you’re curious I’m an open book and would be happy to share another time). Anyway, off topic again, the point is I truly made an effort to meet with her knowing that she was expecting me to be able to take the test but it didn’t work out so I had to try to figure out the material that I missed on my own. Which I did. I got all of the notes from my peers and did my best to go through them and essentially teach myself the unit. 

The night before the test comes and I am obviously getting in some last minute studying when all of the sudden once again my vision decides to take a break from working. Obviously I stop working and the mental breakdown begins and that was the end of my productivity for the night. 

I got to school the next day and went straight to my school psychologist to catch her up and cry some more about what happened. 

I think it’s important to mention that pre calc was my 6th period of the day so I spent the entire day leading up to it trying to build up the courage to tell my teacher that I simply could not take the test that day. Consequently, the longer it took to speak to her, the longer I was left with my anxiety building up. 

Finally, the anxiety got to be too much for me to handle so I decided to find her during 4th period, my free period, knowing that she had a free period as well.

I found her in the hallway and IMMEDIATELY the tears started forming and by the time I finished explaining the situation we advanced to a full cry. As I’m sure you could have guessed she was not necessarily the most understanding to say the least. She went on about how I should have had plenty of time to figure it out, I shouldn’t have even needed to study that much the night before and I have no excuse to not take the test that day. 

I would also like everyone to keep in mind that although this is happening between classes, we are still standing in the middle of the hallway with people occasionally walking by and watching me bawling my eyes out. 

I think my favorite part was that she had the nerve to ask me if I had a therapist to talk to as she was the direct cause of my breakdown. And then even better, she had the audacity to bring up the experience in my life (a story for another time) that lead to my PTSD and at this point I am miles past a breakdown.

Now we’re actually getting to the point that I will absolutely never forget for the rest of my life. I want you to try and create an image for this situation in your mind: I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, talking to this teacher, other students and faculty passing, and now I begin having a full blown panic attack, one of the worst that I had ever experienced. Struggling to catch my breath, unable to get a word out, unable to move. 

She doesn’t know what to do with me. I kid you not, she brings me down the hall to my guidance counselors office, mid panic attack, gives the most basic description of what just happened, and LEAVES. How rude of me to scare her with my panic attack. And that’s my story 🙂

Okay wow, that took a lot longer to recite than I expected so I think I will save the explanation for my next post for WHY I actually wanted to share this experience other than to dig up the lovely memory. 

 

HAVE A GREAT DAY 🙂

 

Stress in teenagers is for the most part inevitable, especially while going through the education system; however, there comes a time where the level of stress that one experiences can get out of hand and become unhealthy. 

When teens find themselves overly stressed in High School, there is a list full of people to confide in at the tips of their fingers. I personally met with my school psychologist all four years of High School on a regular basis. She became my second mom, my biggest support system, and my safe haven. However, the initial reason for my meetings with the psychologist had no connection to my now discovered anxiety. 

If a certain incident in my life had not occurred leading me to start speaking with her in my freshman year of High School, it is likely that I never would have reached out on my own and would have continued living my life in the dark, assuming that my constant stress levels were normal when they certainly were not. My stress levels would have continued to build up as the years progressed, just as it did before my freshman year. Additionally, I never would have known the extent to which learning skills to help me to manage my anxiety would benefit my overall happiness and wellbeing. 

Since discovering my anxiety, I have realized ways in which it impacts my life academically, socially and physically that I had never imagined before. Considering my experience in the dark, unaware of my mental illness, I figured it was safe to assume that many others are undergoing a similar obstacle and that is why I am writing this post today. Due to the fact that you cannot see the educational, physical, and social toll that anxiety can leave, it can be difficult to recognize when you personally are suffering and even more difficult for an outside spectator to understand and sympathize with the effects that it can have on victims who are suffering. 

Having anxiety is like an unseen broken bone. 

Let’s say we’re in gym class and it’s the rock climbing unit. If you have a broken arm with of course one of those bright pink casts on it that you had all of your friends sign, your teacher isn’t going to make you climb the rock wall right? No question. What if you told your teacher that the thought of climbing the rock wall was giving you anxiety? Do you think the teacher would be just as understanding? Probably not. Maybe once you get to the point where your nerves consume your whole body and you throw up. That might get their attention. 

Typically though, until anxiety gets to the point where it visibly affects the body, like throwing up, it can be hard to understand or even believe from an outside perspective.

I want you to take a second and reflect. 

How often do you feel stressed? Are you stressed right now? If so, why? How often do you think about the thing that stresses you? Have you talked to anyone about it? 

It’s okay to be stressed. It’s not okay do let the stress build up and consume you. If you think you need it, go talk to someone. I’m always here and I love to listen. 

I hate writing. 

I’m sorry Professor, I realize this is not something I should be saying for you to read but I hope you can understand when I say this. 

I hate writing. 

I feel like I am submerged ten feet deep in concrete any time I have a writing assignment for school. The worst part is I hate writing even more when it’s about things that I actually enjoy.

See, I want this blog to be about mental health. Something I feel very passionately about and something with which I have a strong personal connection. I could talk about it for days. I absolutely love talking about it, sharing my story, educating my peers, all of it. But boy do I hate writing about it.

Like I said, I feel stuck. I feel too pressured to make sure that I love every single word that I put down on the page. When I talk about it I have so much more freedom and opportunity. I don’t have to worry as much about making sure everything I want to say is coming across the way I intended. When I’m talking, I can say something and then show the process of my thoughts changing and expanding and going all over the place (which they usually do). 

It’s funny really, I’m writing about mental health and it’s bringing out my OCD and increasing my anxiety, two of the mental illnesses that I live with. I realize that this is not what this project is supposed to be. “Passion blog” should mean that I am excited to write about my topic and believe me I want to be. However, I feel so pressured to make it the best that I possibly can, that I somehow am struggling to write 500 words about something that I could speak about for days. 

I imagine I sound pretty hypocritical saying that I want to teach you all about mental health and how to cope with mental illness after I just finished saying how much my anxiety is building up from writing those exact sentences. Here’s the thing though, I want to show that it is okay for things to spark anxiety.

Sure, writing this is making me anxious, that’s why it has taken me five days, working on it about three separate times each day, to write this little amount. However, I’ve learned through trial and error that because I am someone who takes especially long to write papers, I need to start as much in advance as possible. Therefore, when I get anxious, I have left myself with some time to take a break and keep my mental health in check because I have grown to learn that no school project or paper or anything is worth jeopardizing my mental health. So, I have worked on this blog for chunks of about 20 minutes each. Once  I reach the point where I find myself overthinking way too much and zoning out too often, I take a break and finally once I have a clear mind again I come back to it.  

I want to be able to share my experience with mental illnesses affecting my overall mental health, when I discovered and accepted that what I was feeling was in fact normal, and how I have adjusted in order to keep my mental health under control. More importantly, I wish to make this blog   a resource for anyone reading. Whether it is a resource to understand mental illness from an outside perspective, or understand your own mental illnesses, or find coping mechanisms to try when you’re feeling low, etc. 

So, Professor, I apologize in advance; however, if this blog is going to work for me, if I am going to be able to take full advantage of the assignment, this blog is going to be chaotic. It is going to bring you into my, for lack of better words, messy mind.

I want to show you all as best I can, my thoughts unfiltered.