Getting Over The Stigma of Anxiety
Real men take care of their mental health
I was 21 years old when the culmination of years of emotional repression and “acting like a man” finally manifested itself in the form of a panic attack.
The morning it first happened started like any other morning for a college kid who is trying to survive finals week: I arose from one of my 2-hour naps that substituted as sleep and made my way to my on-campus job with a handful of almonds and some water for breakfast. I had been cramming all week long for a big final I had later on that day and I NEEDED to pass this final.
I was in my last semester of undergraduate and I decided at the last minute, like any other rational adult would, that “Hey, I don’t know what I want to do with my life so I’ll go get a master’s in business.” The kicker was that I needed a 4.0 that semester to get my GPA up high enough to qualify, so needless to say, I spent that entire semester under a cloud of stress to reach this new goal.
I had been kicking that goal’s ass all semester, but then finals week came and I had one B. One fucking B in a slate of four classes. So on the day of that final, I read notes while walking, showering; if it was possible I would have studied while I napped. The day was here and even though I felt the consecutive days of no sleep…
