I guess my story begins a couple of years back when I was first diagnosed with panic disorder. I had begun to have recurrent panic attacks in my classes, and it had gotten to the point that I couldn’t even make it forty minutes sitting in a classroom without having a complete breakdown. I constantly felt like I couldn’t sit still, like I couldn’t breathe because I was always so wired up with the adrenaline coursing through my body. I just wanted it all to end, and there were dark moments where I wondered what I wouldn’t give to get a little bit of relief from all the anxiety and ups and downs of every single day. I would break down some nights because I was always so scared that this was going to be my life forever, this constant cycle of misery and panic. And I didn’t know what I was going to do if it was.
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