Anxiety or Allergies? How I Realized I Needed Help

For most of my youth, I struggled with severe anxiety, panic attacks, and depression without understanding what was happening or how to cope. Not knowing any better, I often mistook the symptoms of my worsening mental health for allergic reactions. My symptoms were at their worst the summer before my sophomore year of college. I couldn’t sleep or eat properly and isolated myself, consumed by overwhelming thoughts and feelings that seemed to come and go unpredictably. I felt helpless, caught in a cycle of brief moments of relief followed by something unexplainable that dragged me back into a spiral of worry, panic, and their physical manifestations.

One day, I broke down, shaking on the bathroom floor and gasping for air, thinking I had come into contact with something that triggered an anaphylactic allergic reaction. Although, in reality, I knew I hadn’t encountered anything that could cause it. Not knowing what to do, my dad took me to urgent care, where, for the first time, I learned my symptoms weren’t caused by allergic reactions—it was anxiety. My body had reached a breaking point, and I had no idea that my mental health could be the culprit. It took me a while to process what I had been told, but that visit marked the beginning of my journey to seek help.

The journey wasn’t easy. While my loved ones were supportive, many had faced similar issues without the tools or understanding to address their own mental health, let alone assist with mine. Without the right resources, I felt lost. I tried my campus’s counseling services, only to be sent home with pamphlets and vague advice. I looked into external resources but found myself in a frustrating position: I earned just enough with my part-time jobs to not qualify for assistance programs but not enough to afford proper treatment. The lack of accessibility discouraged me, which further deteriorated my mental health at times, but I became determined to manage it. I was fortunate in many ways, but it took several years before I could access affordable and effective mental health services.

The stark reality is that many people don’t have the luxury of time to access appropriate mental health services. The financial, social, and institutional barriers that prevent people from seeking help often leave them stuck in a cycle of unmet needs and worsening conditions. For many, such barriers force them to delay or forgo care altogether. This perpetuates a system where only those with the resources or privilege can treat their mental health, leaving others discouraged and enabling their suffering. Access to mental health services should not be a privilege. Mental health is an essential aspect of a holistic approach to an individual’s well-being, and pathways must exist for accessible, empathetic, and timely care.

Anonymous Young Adult, CO

My Mental Health Monster

All my life, I knew that everyone had feelings—whether they chose to share them or not. But the first time I truly had to face my mental health head-on was in high school. Within a year and a half, I went through sexual trauma and lost my mom. It was the perfect storm for emotional burnout.

But the most challenging part of seeking help was fighting the stigma within my own family. I remember my dad once telling me he feared I would be institutionalized if I genuinely expressed my feelings. That comment hurt me—not because of how it made me feel but because I realized my dad had never had access to resources that could help him with his struggles.

I was initially discouraged from seeking help, but after months of feeling stuck, someone pointed out that I could access therapy through Medicaid at little to no cost. That was a turning point. I saw one of the two therapists of color at my school. As I began my healing journey, I was prescribed anxiety medication, which helped more than I could have imagined. Despite the initial adjustment, it was something I truly needed.

Looking back, I had no idea how difficult things would become. No one could have predicted the challenges I would face in high school, including the onset of a pandemic. Without the resources I had, that time could have been much darker for me.

Thankfully, because I was on Medicaid at the time, my father—a single parent and widower—didn’t have to worry about how to pay for therapy for one of his three children still living at home. This was one less burden on my family.

Unfortunately, after graduating high school in 2021, my Medicaid was cut off. Without it, I could no longer afford therapy or my medication. Since then, I’ve had my struggles but have tried to find healing through holistic and spiritual practices. Still, I wish I had continued access to those critical services. Like many others my age, I’m navigating the challenges of adult life, figuring out what it means to “adult” while balancing everything else.

I’m a strong advocate for mental health within my community, my family, and my peer groups. We must break the stigma surrounding mental health support. Many people struggle daily; simply telling them to “get over it” or that they’ll be “okay” is not enough. I will always advocate for mental health services to be free and accessible to everyone whenever they need them.

Johnson, Aariyah, CO

Everything Matters

I’ve been feeling okay lately—more than I have in a while. Last year was tough, and the past few months have been painful. I’m grieving the loss of a relationship, in the process of moving, and grappling with mental health struggles that have lingered for over a decade. People are dying. The planet is dying. I feel uncomfortable in my body, afraid to go out and be seen in the world. My heart aches, and sometimes I feel electric with rage. Amidst it all, I see beauty. I see the light. The sun shines on my face as I anxiously avoid eye contact with a passerby at the park. Flowers grow through the cracked sidewalk littered with plastic near my house. Angelic voices sing amid the cries.

It hasn’t always been this way. By this, I mean I haven’t always seen it this way. I remember feeling so entrenched in darkness that light seemed absurd. I didn’t dare imagine a life with contrast, light and darkness, and every shade in between. Indeed, if such a life existed, I wasn’t worthy of it. And I fed this hopelessness in both big and small ways. Sometimes, a sliver of hope would go inside, but it wouldn’t last long. It’d go like: Feel Good, Something Happens, Now I Don’t,’ and ‘Nothing Matters. Over and over again. What an exhausting way to live—if you can even call it living.

What’s different today? Not much—and everything. I still feel good sometimes, and things still happen. Cruel and beautiful, strange and heartbreaking things. Such is life. And no, not all of them feel good. The past few months have felt like one gut punch after another, sometimes like I’m getting kicked while crouched on the ground in the fetal position. The big difference is that no matter what, Everything Matters. Everything still matters. Life has meaning, and though it’s oftentimes beyond my comprehension, it’s worth living. And I am worthy of living it.

This has always been the case. Confiding in another, allowing my deepest fears and most intense longings to be seen, has been a balm to my wounded heart. Therapy is defined as “a treatment to relieve or heal a disorder,” but to me, it has been so much more than that. I am fully living. I am surfing the waves. Life’s knocked me off the board a few times, but I now know I can make my way back up. Everyone deserves the opportunity to experience life’s fullness. Everyone deserves to be relieved of suffering, heal, expand, and flourish. I advocate for a world where mental health services are not a privilege but a right.

Kim, Katherine, CO