9

Anxiety

One time my friends and I were throwing a football in the basement of our dorm in college. I think I was probably around 20 years old. It was my third college lol. I got recruited to play d3 college basketball out of high school where I was a pretty decent player. I didn’t realize D3 schools recruit swaths of high school players to campus and then have them try out for spots. They have their jewel recruits and then they have the rest of us try out for role player spots. I didn’t realize this.

I showed up to college my freshman year and got my money’s worth. I drank 3-4 nights a week. Hooked up with average girls. Eventually I started smoking weed 2 times a day. I gained weight, stopped working out, and started blowing off class. Tryouts for the basketball team came around and they put me on the JV team. I actually had a pretty decent tryout but I wasn’t the player I could have or should have been. The JV team practiced 2-3 times a week and we had around 4-5 games. I got fat as hell. My friends and I would get in a car and smoke 4-5 blunts a night. I thought I was ‘finding myself’. I wasn’t. I was actually just being a piece of shit.

Long story short, eventually an RA smelled pot on me and my roommate after one of our blunt rides. They raided my room and found empty weed baggies in one of my desk drawers. I was going to have a ‘trial’ where they would probably suspend me for a semester. Eventually my parents got word from someone at my college. I couldn’t even tell them myself I was so ashamed. My parents came to pick me up for spring break and my dad showed up with his truck. I thought that was weird.

He came up to my room and looked around. I had posters of girls in underwear. My room was a mess. I hadn’t shaved or worked out in months. We start talking. Pure embarrassment just seeping through my skin. I’d become something awful. All my good qualities were gone. Well maybe not gone, but buried in a place that would take a lot of digging to get back.

My dad looks at me and goes, “Hey, they told us about what happened. Let’s go home.” Not an ounce of anger or disappointment. Just honesty, love, and care. This is not how any interaction with my dad had ever gone before. He saw what I’d become and knew I was still in there somewhere. That night we packed up all my stuff and I never went back to that place. I owe him everything for that. Our relationship has never been perfect. We’ve yelled, we’ve fought, and called each other horrible names. But he’s always been there for me. The only guy always in my corner.

So I got home, went to community college, and got great grades. I tried out for the basketball team there and came within one or two spots of making it. They were one of the best community college teams in the area so I was still pretty proud of that. I was still smoking weed but I set some rules for myself about it. I ended up enrolling at a local college. It was a good school and I moved on campus again.

I got my money’s worth again. I’m still paying for that shit. I started doing the same shit all over again. Drinking 3-4 times a week. Smoking weed all day. Blowing off class. This time, however, was a little different in that I started taking a lot of pre-workout and got pretty strong. Probably not great for my kidneys and my heart though. Might have been better off just getting fat again.

Then one night my friends and I were throwing a football in the basement of my dorm. Me and my friend (still tight with him) could really make it sizzle. Both of us could throw tight spirals back and forth to each other all day. Then I got the genius idea to stack up a bunch of mattresses so we could make diving catches on them. My buddy laid one out for me and I made a stellar diving catch. Only problem was there was a cinderblock wall there to catch me. I dove head first into it.

The hit shocked me. Immediately I jumped up and started grabbing my head/brain area. I ran around quickly and became extremely worried that I really broke something. I was also verrrrrry high so even if I did break something I wouldn’t be able to tell. I remember having a low level headache for a week or two after that. I started telling my buddies that I was going to stop smoking weed because it was making my head feel weird. I didn’t stop all at once but I definitely started smoking less and less.

Then one night I was in my friend’s backyard from home and we were smoking a blunt. That’s when it happened. I had a major panic attack. My head felt awful and my heart was beating incredibly fast. I eventually had my friend’s mom drive me to the hospital. I was convinced I was having a heart attack. She sat there with me all night. I owe her everything for that. The nurses and doctors told me I was fine and that I was just having a panic attack. “Maybe you shouldn’t smoke marijuana anymore” I remember being told.

I did it one more time. I was with my friends at school, smoked, and the same panic attack happened. An ambulance came to my dorm. The nurses and doctors sat me in the ambulance and told the same exact thing. This wasn’t going to stop happening and the correlation was clear. Smoking weed = embarrassing panic attack. Was it because I smacked my head that night throwing a football? I don’t know, but that’s the story I tell myself. I was also with my dad when I was 9 years old when he had a heart attack. Might have been from all the pre-workout. It’s probably a combination of a lot of things.

My parents got another call from my college about what happened. My mom started picking me up from school every Wednesday to take me to therapy. I owe her everything for that. The therapist was great and would just talk to me about things. This was still a pretty dark period of my life. I was sad I couldn’t just be one of my friends and get high and laugh at a movie. I had a real girlfriend for the first time in my life but wasn’t a great boyfriend. That’s a different story for a different day.

Eventually I ended up leaving school and living at home again. I got a good internship thanks to a family connection and was working during the day and going to school at night. I eventually graduated with great grades and my job was going really well. I’d still get some low level anxiety in meetings and other times. I had a job and a degree though, something I used to wonder if I’d ever be capable of doing. Honestly, the guy I was before was not capable of doing that. Today, I have my own apartment and a job I show up to (mostly) everyday. Somedays I show up 15 minutes late but I’m working on that.

Sometimes I think about the days when I would get high and watch tv or play basketball and really miss those times. Then I think about whether that guy would be capable of doing the things I do today. Eating healthy. Working out daily. Going to work. Keeping my apartment relatively clean. I know the answer.

I’d like to clarify, however, that I don’t have depression but I definitely have anxiety. My anxiety is awful sometimes. I’ll be in a crowded place and just start to sweat. My face will get beet red for no apparent reason. I’ll say something so dumb to the CEO of my company when we’re having a conversation in the lunch room. Not because I’m stupid but because I’m trying SO hard to have a meaningless conversation. But my anxiety has also given me so much. It’s the brakes on my car. It tells me when I’m going down a bad path.

This is my experience with anxiety and by no means am I trying to represent other people’s experiences. It’s definitely been difficult but it’s changed my life for the better. Sometimes you just have to play the cards that you’re dealt. Sometimes you get dealt deuce seven offsuit. Sometimes you hit a full house anyways. It’s not always easy but it’s always been for my benefit. I’m grateful for my anxiety.