I have struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember, but I didn’t get officially diagnosed until I was 37 years old.  

Growing up I was a shy little girl, but once I got to know you, I didn’t stop talking. I was a good student, but boy did I have to try hard to keep my grades up. I frequently got the phrase, “Allison’s a great student, but talks too much” on my report cards. I was a rule follower and a “good girl”. I cared a lot about the thoughts and feelings of the people around me, and went out of my way to make sure everyone else was happy and cared for, not realizing that it was often at the expense of my own well-being. I was an athlete and felt the most comfortable on a basketball court or doing conditioning drills. For years, I think being so active is what kept my anxiety manageable and not obvious to the outside world. 

I often heard my parents say phrases such as, “Allison was such an easy baby, she slept well and didn’t fuss much,” “Allison is always happy and smiling,” and “We don’t have to worry about Allison, she has it all together.” Back then, I found pride and joy in those comments, but I have come to resent them because I realize I didn’t really have it all together, and I needed more support than I was given.  

As I got a little older, my parents both worked two jobs, and I learned at an early age how to do things for myself and often preferred being independent. I have an older brother who was diagnosed with ADHD and a learning disability at a young age. He struggled with school and as he got older required more attention and support physically, mentally, and monetarily. I saw him struggle and knew I did not want that for myself. I was determined not to rely on anyone else.  

I love my parents, and they did the best they could given the resources they had. They created a safe environment, were present for all my athletic events, and worked hard to provide for our family. They certainly did not intentionally neglect my needs, and it wasn’t until I started therapy that I realized how my childhood impacted the person I was when my anxiety was first diagnosed.  

It was not obvious back then but looking back on my life through the lense of therapy, it’s clear that my childhood was full of masking my anxiety and ADHD. I was an extreme people pleaser and put more attention on what others thought of me rather than what I thought of myself. I was very in tune with everyone else’s feelings and would get unreasonably upset if someone didn’t like me or expressed even the slightest dislike of something I liked or did. I just wanted to fit in. I lacked confidence and self-esteem, and it didn’t help that once I hit Junior High, I was made fun of and bullied by most of the boys in my class.  

Junior High was a tough time for me and after a teacher overheard me talking about all the bullying I had endured, my mom sent me to a therapist. I don’t remember much about that meeting other than I cried a lot and lacked the words needed to fully explain what I was going through. The therapist dismissed my feelings and told my mom what I was going through was normal for a pre-teen girl. I wish my mom had encouraged me to find another therapist and try again, but my parents didn’t have the mental health resources we have now. Once I started High School, I found my group of friends and anxiety was rarely brought up again until I was in my 20s.  

I started dating my now ex-husband when I was 26 years old. We quickly fell in love and were inseparable. Even though our relationship ended in divorce, I would not change a thing, because I now realize he is the reason I eventually got the help I needed. In the beginning he was the calming presence I needed to extinguish my panic attacks, and I gave him the undivided attention he was longing to receive. It wasn’t really until we had our second son that I started having more trouble. Our boys are only 19 months apart and neither one of them were exceptional sleepers. They also had infinite amounts of energy that neither of us were able to keep up with. My ex-husband was diagnosed with ADHD at 18 years old, so he knew his limitations. I on the other hand had never been officially diagnosed even though I was certain I suffered from anxiety. I had no idea I had ADHD until my ex-husband mentioned his suspicion and I started doing my own research. I always thought this was just how I was and something I could overcome, but it became evident that I needed help once I had my two sons and no longer made any time for myself.  

I was overtired, overstimulated, and overworked. I thought I must be doing something wrong and wondered why Motherhood was so hard. I felt like a failure and got to a point where I didn’t even want to play with my kids. It wasn’t evident to me at the time, but I was in survival mode just trying to make it through each hour of each day. This led to several panic attacks, irritability, and explosions of my emotions when I could no longer keep it all in. I have always struggled with asking for and accepting help, so it took me too long to commit to therapy, but once I did, and I found a therapist I liked, it was a game changer for sure. It wasn’t enough to save my marriage, more on that later, but it was enough to save my life and allow my boys to have a healthy, more present mom. I finally understood that my brain works differently, and I was able to give myself the grace I needed to realize I am doing the best I can and am a great mom.