Starting my path to becoming a Physician Assistant (PA) was an easy choice for me. I knew that the lifestyle and connections I would be able to make with patients would benefit both myself and my patients. What I didn’t know was how hard the schooling would be for me. I’ve always been “high-strung,” “hard-working,” “a perfectionist.” During my high school and undergrad education these tendencies were rewarded with scholarships, high grades, and an immense sense of accomplishment. I was proud to push myself further than anyone else. I felt that this was what successful people do. Starting grad school is when I began to see how these aspects of my personality were actually damaging my relationships and my livelihood. The pace and pressure of my first semester of PA school made me want to continue to perform at the level I had before. The problem was, I was surrounded by even higher achievers and while I was meeting the expectations of my program, I was struggling with no longer being the best. That’s when my “high-strung, hard-working, perfectionist” way of life, really began to impact who I was. I had a distorted perception of who I was, and I was constantly worrying about how I could be better. Despite having everything I had worked for, I still was consumed by my own worries. I needed control of every aspect of my life or I would fall apart. If a friend suggested a different restaurant or that we meet an hour earlier, I would fall apart. “I don’t have enough time to study.” “Why doesn’t anyone understand how much work I have to do.” “There’s no time for crying, you’re almost out of time.” I had a mindset of scarcity of time which made me obsess over how I was spending every second of my day. I’d feel like a failure if I only made it 3/4ths of the way through my study guide instead of the whole thing like I had planned. It was a dangerous spiral. I was no longer me. I lashed out at the people who cared most about me because I felt alone and like they would never understand. During my yearly physical exam, I was given the standard anxiety and depression screenings to fill out. I asked the medical assistant semi-jokingly, “Are you taking into account the fact that I’m in PA school?” As if that made my constant worrying acceptable. As if feeling panicked nearly every day was okay if I was working hard. I was not honest on those questionnaires because I was convinced what I was feeling was the result of my circumstances. I was not honest with my physician and left the office that day with a new worries. “Isn’t my mind normal for my situation?” “Do I really need to do anything about it?” “School will be over in 2 years; I’ll make it.” I was in denial about my glaringly obvious anxiety disorder. Then within the same week, the three people closest to me (my mom, my best friend, and my boyfriend) all separately told me that they think I should go have an honest conversation with my doctor to discuss what my options are. While I realized that the stress of my graduate program is likely what pushed my anxiety to this level, I also realized that I had lived with it so long that I thought it was normal. This time I was honest on my questionnaires and with my physician. That’s when I was prescribed Zoloft. It wasn’t an instant change, but looking back, I gained clarity as the serotonin in my brain was beginning to return to a normal level. That’s not to say that my anxiety is gone, but I’m able to work through it now. While I can’t explain why I haven’t started therapy, this is something that I think is also integral to learning how to thrive with a mental illness. As a healthcare provider, I am now able to advocate for my patients and educate them on the normalcy of mental illness. Through these conversations and things Kathryn’s project, I hope the stigma begins to fall away and people seek the help they need so they can live their best lives.
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