From the outside the a mental health condition is invisible to the eye, hidden deep inside a person's brain. Nobody can see the internal battle that an individual has to face every single day. It is not a choice. It becomes the individuals normality a life with routines, patterns, rituals that have to be done to keep the anxiety at bay.
In recent months I have both graduated from university and turned the ripe old age of 23. By juggling a retail job, freelance work and the occasional unpaid personal project, I scramble through most of my days searching for the sweet relief of feeling "Wow...I really have my shit together!", before I pat myself on the back and give a double thumbs up to an invisible camera. But that feeling never seems to come.
When I was first diagnosed, I became extremely withdrawn. I hated being touched, hugged, or shown love because I felt I was unlovable, unworthy, unclean, and frightened. This was even with my own family. My mum continued to support and hug me even when I would push her away. A simple hug makes all the difference, this allowed me to grow to trust and love again.