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9 things this woman wants you to know about her hidden anxiety.

On the outside, she looks like she does every day. On the inside, she's shaking.

9 things this woman wants you to know about her hidden anxiety.

When I tell most people that I have an anxiety disorder, they nod their heads and tell me it’ll be OK.

But when I tell them, "I’m sorry, I’m having a bad anxiety day, can we reschedule?" they smile and tell me there’s nothing to worry about. They tell me that if I just get out of bed, I’ll see that everything is fine.

And when I don’t want to go bar hopping because I know that alcohol only increases my anxious tendencies, I hear, "You’re fine. It’ll be fun. Let off some steam!"


Meanwhile, my heart is pounding so fast that I’m afraid it may be visibly beating out of my chest. But it isn’t. My head isn’t actually spinning in circles. My eyes are not crossed like my blurred vision indicates. My knees aren’t wobbling along with the trembling muscles fighting the urge to collapse. My face isn’t pale, and my eyes aren’t bloodshot.

On the outside, I look like I do every day. My hair is clean. My clothes match. I am awake, alive, and breathing fine. So nothing is wrong, right?

Wrong.

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That’s the thing about anxiety disorders: We look fine.

Our legs aren’t broken. Our tongues haven’t been cut out. We aren’t cut or bruised. Anxiety is not a physical disability, but that doesn’t make it any less debilitating.

Anxiety is complex, and when people tell me that everything is OK, it isn’t just unhelpful. In fact, it can even hurt me more because it seems like nobody takes my anxiety seriously.

So here are some things I would like you to know about struggling with anxiety:

1. It isn't constant.

There are days when I can make it through without having to stop and breathe or pop a Xanax. I can smile and laugh. I can be productive and go to work, go out to dinner, go see a movie with my friends. And trust me, I know how difficult it is to understand how I can be fine one day and the next not be able to get out of bed. That’s just how it is.

2. It comes in waves.

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Anxiety is a strange beast. It will let me have some fun for a couple of days until I think, "Hmm, maybe it’s finally left me alone." Then I’ll wake up the next morning unable to even think straight because for whatever reason, the beast has once again emerged. There is nothing I can do to stop it from coming because I have woken up to it sitting on my chest smiling as if I’m welcoming it home.

3. It can be completely paralyzing.

I don’t know if this one applies to everyone, but I know this paralyzing fear is a very big piece of my anxiety disorder. When anxiety hits, I am frozen. I can get up and go through the motions of my day, but my brain is elsewhere, held captive by whatever "demon" is inhabiting me this time. I cannot think about anything except my inability to think or breathe or feel. My brain feels like it is literally paralyzed, as if it is stuck in some kind of limbo with no doors or windows or exits of any kind.

The worst part? I’m completely alone in there.

4. It can ruin relationships.

Not just romantic relationships, but a relationship of any kind. Friendships and relationships alike can be destroyed by this condition. I have experienced both, and it is the most devastating kind of loss. Why? Because it is not our fault.

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Anxiety is a disorder that without the knowledge of how to care for it properly can explode over time. Eventually, it can become too much for someone else to carry around with them. If someone becomes close enough to you to experience firsthand the effects of your own anxiety, there’s a chance that it can become too much for them. They might sever the ties for their own mental health. And it hurts like hell.

5. It can make trust nearly impossible.

And I know — it sounds awful to blame trust issues on anxiety, but in all honestly, it’s not placing blame, it’s placing responsibility. Anxiety almost never fails to make you think the worst of every situation.

If someone doesn’t answer my text, well then that’s it, they no longer like me. If someone doesn’t text me first, they don’t think about me. Someone is busy? Forget it. They just have better things to do with their time than spend it with me. I sound ridiculous, right? Welcome to the anxiety life. We do not have cookies, sorry, but can I interest you in crippling loneliness at a table for one? No? Didn’t think so.

5. I do not want this.

Do you really think that if I had a choice I would choose to let down the people who love me because I can’t handle a simple outing? Do you think that I want to be so afraid to get out of bed that instead I call off work and cry to "Grey’s Anatomy" for 13 hours in a row? Probably not. Would you choose that?

Image via iStock.

So when you tell us that we’re being dramatic and just looking for attention, take a second and think about what you’re saying. Nobody, I repeat nobody, wants this.

6. I wish every day that I wasn’t like this.

There’s always a little voice in the back of my head telling me just how great my life could be if I wasn’t this way. If I could just not have anxiety, everything would be OK. I could actually be happy and trust that the happiness was not a joke or a trick — that the other shoe was not, in fact, ever going to drop. There is no other shoe. But that’s not how I am.

To me, no matter how many times I tell myself that everything is OK and I’m being ridiculous, nothing is ever just "all right." In fact, even the smallest things are a disaster.

7. There are treatments, and I am willing to try them all.

Many people who are diagnosed with anxiety are prescribed medication to control it. Most of the time, those medications work to take the edge off and can make me a bit more functional in everyday life. However, simply using medications usually isn’t enough.

I have tried going to the gym. The endorphins usually help immensely. A lot of people take up yoga and breathing exercises. For me, writing, singing, and coloring in my adult coloring books are very comforting.

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I have found talk therapy to be the greatest tool and worth every penny. Having a therapist who is constantly on your side and there to just let you talk without ever once judging you or blaming you for the condition you’re in is the such a freeing experience. I highly suggest it to anyone struggling with anxiety.

8. I will overcome it.

But it will take time. Fighting anxiety can be a never-ending battle with frequent slip ups and breakdowns along the way. I am still in the process personally, and it is not easy. At all.

Learning how to overcome anxiety is the most difficult task anyone has ever asked me to complete. But these thoughts, the ones that are not truly mine, feel like poison to my soul. But on those days that I can mark a check in the win category, I feel like I can take on the world.

9. Anxiety is heavy, scary stuff.

It is not a visible injury, but that doesn’t make it any less legitimate. We need people in our lives who are willing to help us and support us and understand that we need a lot of that help and support. I won’t think any less of you if you don’t think you can handle the commitment of being a part of my life, but I do ask that you do not get my hopes up and let me down.

Image via iStock.

So when I say, "I have anxiety," here’s what I really mean: Treat me kindly.

Be patient with me. Support me. Know that in everything I do, I am thinking about how it affects you. I am fighting for control over my life every day. I am a handful, and I know it. I am not always easy to have in your life, but if you let me, I will always be there for you. I will never forget the way you held on when most people would let go.

When I say, "I have anxiety," I am both warning you about what you are in for and thanking you for choosing me anyway.

My husband was working out in our front yard, wearing an N95 mask, when a man driving by gestured to his face and yelled, "Take it off!"

I've seen anti-maskers. I've heard their arguments for not wearing a mask in the middle of a viral pandemic. I know they think they don't work, or that they actually make you sick, or that they're a way for the government to control our behavior, or [fill-in-the-blank conspiracy theory]. But I wish I could bring that guy back and show him what he was actually yelling at.

My husband wasn't wearing a mask for COVID, you see. He was mixing concrete to fix our front steps. He's always worn an N95 mask when he does home improvement projects that involve fine particulate dust, as he values his lung health. In fact, that's why we had a stash of N95s that we were able to donate to medical workers early in the pandemic.

Telling my husband to take off his mask in that case was just flat-out dumb. But honestly, shaming people for wearing a mask for any reason is dumb.

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My husband was working out in our front yard, wearing an N95 mask, when a man driving by gestured to his face and yelled, "Take it off!"

I've seen anti-maskers. I've heard their arguments for not wearing a mask in the middle of a viral pandemic. I know they think they don't work, or that they actually make you sick, or that they're a way for the government to control our behavior, or [fill-in-the-blank conspiracy theory]. But I wish I could bring that guy back and show him what he was actually yelling at.

My husband wasn't wearing a mask for COVID, you see. He was mixing concrete to fix our front steps. He's always worn an N95 mask when he does home improvement projects that involve fine particulate dust, as he values his lung health. In fact, that's why we had a stash of N95s that we were able to donate to medical workers early in the pandemic.

Telling my husband to take off his mask in that case was just flat-out dumb. But honestly, shaming people for wearing a mask for any reason is dumb.

Keep Reading Show less
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Each year, an estimated 1.8 million people in the United States are affected by cancer — most commonly cancers of the breast, lung, prostate, and blood cancers such as leukemia. While not everyone overcomes the disease, thanks to science, more people are surviving — and for longer — than ever before in history.

We asked three people whose lives have been impacted by cancer to share their stories – how their lives were changed by the disease, and how they're using that experience to change the future of cancer treatments with the hope that ultimately, in the fight against cancer, science will win. Here's what they had to say.

Celine Ryan, 55, engineer database programmer and mother of five from Detroit, MI

Photo courtesy of Celine Ryan

In September 2013, Celine Ryan woke up from a colonoscopy to some traumatic news. Her gastroenterologist showed her a picture of the cancerous mass they found during the procedure.

Ryan and her husband, Patrick, had scheduled a colonoscopy after discovering some unusual bleeding, so the suspicion she could have cancer was already there. Neither of them, however, were quite prepared for the results to be positive -- or for the treatment to begin so soon. Just two days after learning the news, Ryan had surgery to remove the tumor, part of her bladder, and 17 cancerous lymph nodes. Chemotherapy and radiation soon followed.

Ryan's treatment was rigorous – but in December 2014, she got the devastating news that the cancer, once confined to her colon, had spread to her lungs. Her prognosis, they said, was likely terminal.

But rather than give up hope, Ryan sought support from online research, fellow cancer patients and survivors, and her medical team. When she brought up immunotherapy to her oncologist, he quickly agreed it was the best course of action. Ryan's cancer, like a majority of colon and pancreatic cancers, had been caused by a defect on the gene KRAS, which can result in a very aggressive cancer that is virtually "undruggable." According to the medical literature, the relatively smooth protein structure of the KRAS gene meant that designing inhibitors to bind to surface grooves and treat the cancer has been historically difficult. Through her support systems, Ryan discovered an experimental immunotherapy trial at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, MD., and called them immediately to see if she was eligible. After months of trying to determine whether she was a suitable candidate for the experimental treatment, Ryan was finally accepted.

The treatment, known as tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte therapy, or TIL, is a testament to how far modern science has evolved. With this therapy, doctors remove a tumor and harvest special immune cells that are found naturally in the tumor. Doctors then grow the cells in a lab over the next several weeks with a protein that promotes rapid TIL growth – and once the cells number into the billions, they are infused back into the patient's body to fight the cancer. On April 1, 2015, Ryan had her tumor removed at the NIH. Two months later, she went inpatient for four weeks to have the team "wash out" her immune system with chemotherapy and infuse the cells – all 148 billion of them – back into her body.

Six weeks after the infusion, Ryan and Patrick went back for a follow-up appointment – and the news they got was stunning: Not only had no new tumors developed, but the six existing tumors in her lungs had shrunk significantly. Less than a year after her cell infusion, in April 2016, the doctors told Ryan news that would have been impossible just a decade earlier: Thanks to the cell infusion, Ryan was now considered NED – no evaluable disease. Her body was cancer-free.

Ryan is still NED today and continuing annual follow-up appointments at the NIH, experiencing things she never dreamed she'd be able to live to see, such as her children's high school and college graduations. She's also donating her blood and cells to the NIH to help them research other potential cancer treatments. "It was an honor to do so," Ryan said of her experience. "I'm just thrilled, and I hope my experience can help a lot more people."

Patrice Lee, PhD, VP of Pharmacology, Toxicology and Exploratory Development at Pfizer

Photo courtesy of Patrice Lee

Patrice Lee got into scientific research in an unconventional way – through the late ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau.

Lee never met Cousteau but her dreams of working with him one day led her to pursue a career in science. Initially, Lee completed an undergraduate degree in marine biology; eventually, her interests changed and she decided to get a dual doctoral degree in physiology and toxicology at Duke University. She now works at Pfizer's R&D site in Boulder, CO (formerly Array BioPharma), leading a group of scientists who determine the safety and efficacy of new oncology drugs.

"Scientists focused on drug discovery and development in the pharmaceutical industry are deeply committed to inventing new therapies to meet unmet needs," Lee says, describing her field of work. "We're driven to achieve new medicines and vaccines as quickly as possible without sacrificing safety."

Among the drugs Lee has helped develop during her career, including cancer therapies, she says around a dozen are currently in development, while nine have received FDA approval — an incredible accomplishment as many scientists spend their careers without seeing their drug make it to market. Lee's team is particularly interested in therapies for brain metastases — something that Lee says is a largely unmet need in cancer research, and something her team is working on from a variety of angles. "Now that we've had rapid success with mRNA vaccine technology, we hope to explore what the future holds when applying this technology to cancers," Lee says.

But while evaluating potential cancer therapies is a professional passion of Lee's, it's also a mission that's deeply personal. "I'm also a breast cancer survivor," she says. "So I've been on the other side of things and have participated in a clinical trial."

However, seeing how melanoma therapies that she helped develop have affected other real-life cancer patients, she says, has been a highlight of her career. "We had one therapy that was approved for patients with BRAF-mutant metastatic melanoma," Lee recalls. "Our team in Boulder was graced by a visit from a patient that had benefited from these drugs that we developed. It was a very special moment for the entire team."

None of these therapies would be available, Lee says without rigorous science behind it: "Facts come from good science. Facts will drive the development of new drugs, and that's what will help patients."

Chiuying "Cynthia" Kuk (they/them) MS, 34, third-year medical student at Michigan State University College of Human Medicine

Photo courtesy of Cynthia Kuk

Cynthia Kuk was just 10 years old when they had a conversation that would change their life forever.

"My mother, who worked as a translator for the government at the time, had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and after her chemotherapy treatments she would get really sick," Kuk, who uses they/them pronouns, recalls. "When I asked my dad why mom was puking so much, he said it was because of the medicine she was taking that would help her get better."

Kuk's response was immediate: "That's so stupid! Why would a medicine make you feel worse instead of better? When I'm older, I want to create medicine that won't make people sick like that."

Nine years later, Kuk traveled from their native Hong Kong to the United States to do exactly that. Kuk enrolled in a small, liberal arts college for their Bachelor's degree, and then four years later started a PhD program in cancer research. Although Kuk's mother was in remission from her cancer at the time, Kuk's goal was the same as it had been as a 10-year-old watching her suffer through chemotherapy: to design a better cancer treatment, and change the landscape of cancer research forever.

Since then, Kuk's mission has changed slightly.

"My mom's cancer relapsed in 2008, and she ended up passing away about five years after that," Kuk says. "After my mom died, I started having this sense of urgency. Cancer research is such that you work for twenty years, and at the end of it you might have a fancy medication that could help people, but I wanted to help people now." With their mother still at the forefront of their mind, Kuk decided to quit their PhD program and enter medical school.

Now, Kuk plans to pursue a career in emergency medicine – not only because they are drawn to the excitement of the emergency room, but because the ER is a place where the most marginalized people tend to seek care.

"I have a special interest in the LGBTQ+ population, as I identify as queer and nonbinary," says Kuk. "A lot of people in this community and other marginalized communities access care through the ER and also tend to avoid medical care since there is a history of mistreatment and judgement from healthcare workers. How you carry yourself as a doctor, your compassion, that can make a huge difference in someone's care."

In addition to making a difference in the lives of LGBTQ+ patients, Kuk wants to make a difference in the lives of patients with cancer as well, like their mother had.

"We've diagnosed patients in the Emergency Department with cancer before," Kuk says. "I can't make cancer good news but how you deliver bad news and the compassion you show could make a world of difference to that patient and their family."

During their training, Kuk advocates for patients by delivering compassionate and inclusive care, whether they happen to have cancer or not. In addition to emphasizing their patient's pronouns and chosen names, they ask for inclusive social and sexual histories as well as using gender neutral language. In doing this, they hope to make medicine as a whole more accessible for people who have been historically pushed aside.

"I'm just one person, and I can't force everyone to respect you, if you're marginalized," Kuk says. "But I do want to push for a culture where people appreciate others who are different from them."