Growing Through What No One Else Can See
When you’re young, you know something hurts or you don’t feel good, but it’s hard to identify patterns—to truly understand what’s going on in your body, or your mind. Honestly, it’s hard as an adult too. We tend to live status quo until something starts to impact our lives so clearly negatively that we know something has to change, especially when it begins to seep into every facet of our existence.
Fatigue is one of the biggest ones we hear from our chronic condition community. Not being able to get out of bed or function day-to-day feels like an obvious, physical sign that something’s not right. There are also symptoms, like anxiety that are a bit more under the surface. With anxiety, it starts with one thing, then slowly creeps into more of your daily life until it infiltrates your lifestyle—and suddenly, you’ve hit that breaking point, except that physically, “you look fine.”
The defining moment
I remember it so clearly—my first panic attack. I think the anxiety had started before then, but there’s always one defining moment that sticks with you. Mine was at a Carrabba’s. I was about eleven. I went to the bathroom after dinner, and when I came back out, I couldn’t find my family.
You might be thinking: classic lost child. But I wasn’t lost. My mom was just around the corner, and my dad was waiting outside the restaurant door. Looking back, it’s clear this was the result of a buildup. But in that moment, the second I couldn’t see my family, all logic left me. Even though it took only about 20 seconds for my mom to find me, it didn’t matter. That’s what a panic attack feels like: a complete loss of mental and physical control.
At eleven, I couldn’t grasp how irrational my reaction appeared to those around me—at the time, it felt like the only way to respond.
That moment marked the beginning of anxiety taking over my life. And it didn’t just affect me—it affected my caregivers – my parents. Needing to have one of my parents constantly within sight wasn’t sustainable for any of us, but it was the only way I felt I could make it through each day.
When the condition grows with you
Now, at 26, I look back with so much gratitude. My parents were incredible. They found the right therapists, helped me start taking control, and supported me in learning how to live without my anxiety taking over. When you go from being unable to function without your parents nearby to becoming hyper-independent through therapy, you realize how powerful growth is. You learn to be proud of those tiny moments of mental clarity that once felt out of reach.
As I got older, I kept working at managing my anxiety—and I still do. There’s no secret sauce that makes it disappear. But through medication, therapy, movement, and keeping my mind engaged, I’ve found ways to cope. The thing about mental health is that it grows with you. It evolves. It can be exacerbated by anything.
For many years, a major source of anxiety for me was being the youngest in my grade. I was always teased for it. While that particular anxiety has faded, I now experience a lot of it in relationships—both romantic and platonic. I avoid situations that make me feel out of place. Sometimes I feel stuck in an endless cycle. Just when you conquer one trigger, another one sneaks in.
It’s also true that sometimes what helps you can also hurt you. A new treatment or medication might drastically improve one symptom, but come with side effects like increased anxiety or fatigue—and the cycle continues. I felt this when I switched to Lexapro at 22. It helped my anxiety but caused weight gain, and for the first time in my life, I developed body dysmorphia. Although the medication helped in one area, it unlocked a new set of insecurities. I remember thinking:
“how is anyone supposed to find peace in this never-ending cycle?”
Learning from the past, not living in it
This isn’t a story of triumph or grand success. It’s simply a reflection of how I feel—sometimes happy and at peace, but often anxious and out of control. I try (most days) to make choices that are less conducive for my anxiety. But I still drink coffee sometimes, even though it makes me feel awful. I still nap, even though I often wake up shaking and unsettled. And I still aim to be unapologetically myself—even when I feel judged or unlovable.
I often wonder what new anxieties will surface as I continue through life—into marriage, motherhood—but I stay focused on the current moment. I remind myself often that anxiety lives only in the past or the future. I live in the present.
Having lived with mental health challenges for over 15 years, I’ve developed an ability to recognize when someone is lost in their thoughts. I can sense hurt or frustration in others—sometimes before they even know it themselves. I’ve cultivated a deep level of emotional intelligence and empathy. And that’s something I genuinely love about myself.
The journey continues…
Our physical and mental health are so closely tied - they’re more intertwined that we may realize. It’s not for nothing that every single lupus warrior we spoke to connected stress and anxiety to flare-ups. All this to say: your mental health journey is your own. Whether you’re managing mental health alone or alongside a chronic condition, whatever you’re feeling or experiencing is 100% valid. Whether it’s visible or invisible, you know yourself and your body best. Your body is the vessel for your life. Trust it. Be kind to it. And know that identifying the things that impact your body is no easy feat.
If you're still working to uncover those triggers, you’re not alone. It can feel like an overwhelming task.It’s nearly impossible to recall how you felt a few days ago, let alone a month back. So I recommend starting by tracking whatever it is you’re feeling. This helps me stay in the moment. I can put it all down somewhere, so I can let it go and get it out of my mind.
It’s not about making a giant leap forward - it’s about taking baby steps. Even if a life without anxiety feels out of reach, a life where you can feel in control of your triggers is not.
