Sonder: Youth Mental Health Stories of Struggle & Strength | Page 31

Just another statistic
By Alexandra Hall
When you tell people you have anxiety, they sometimes look
at you with unforgiving eyes that roll so far back into their
skull they see their brains. “Congratulations,” they seem to say,
“You’re just another statistic.” And I guess in a way I am. I have
a Generalized Anxiety Disorder and severe clinical depression,
so you could lump me in with the rest of the troubled teens of
the century. The 70’s had LSD, the 80’s Cigarettes, and now we
just have anti-depressants and vape pens. What kind of time
progression is that? An unfair one, I’ll tell you that.
I’ve tried it all. Six medications, hypnosis, normal therapy,
support groups, and the rest of the works. I’m sure someone
reading this will be offering me some essential oil blend or hot
yoga to rebalance my aura or something. I guess whatever
works for you. I haven’t found anything yet.
You could also argue that my seemingly negative and
pessimistic attitude is getting in the way of me getting better,
and you also might be right. I like the thought of life being a
huge ocean. When you’ve hit rock bottom so many times and
you’re so used to the scratches the rocks give you down there,
you get tired of all the attempts to get you to swim. And when
you do start to swim, BAM! a giant shark comes and rips one of
your arms off! You’re right back where you started, so what’s
the point of trying anymore? They stop sending tanks down
with Zoloft after you’ve refused to take it anymore. People just
don’t know how to help you once you’ve become tolerant to
mental turmoil and pain. Maybe you don’t know how to help
yourself either.
I wish there were some profound ending to this where I tell you
that I got in a car accident and my life flashed before my life
and I suddenly saw the meaning of all this. That I tell you I don’t
struggle with bad thoughts and daily panic attacks. That I’ve
found a perfect medication and am totally not scared of who
I am when I’m off it. But I can’t. That’d be a bunch of lies and if
there’s one thing mentally ill teenagers hate, it’s lies. What I
can tell you is that there is something to be said about
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