It's been a while since I've visited reddit. Initially created this account just to find answers to a few of my queries, so basically this is my first post on this app. ( A bit lengthy, so you could skip to the bottom if you want :) )

I'm 21-years old, an incoming university senior in a few months. I was diagnosed with abnormal anxiety when I was 17. For context, I live in a very conservative country wherein dealing with mental illness is considered taboo. It's quite hard to find a therapist, and most of them are too expensive, and the medications are twice the price. I was lucky enough that my mom was a bit open to the idea of seeing a therapist because at that time I would hardly speak to them anymore and have noticed a change in my behavior. I had been dealing with both depression and anxiety since I was 13, I quit school for a year, in fear of seeing people my age. I have always felt as if every move I made was being watched. I just didn't get the diagnosis at the time because we couldn't afford to see one.

I was taking my medications starting November of 2019, but before the pandemic struck, my mother had a mild stroke, leaving her incapable of doing chores that required too much strength. When the lockdown happened, I was left alone with my mom and nephew. My dad was away and could not travel back due to the restrictions. I had to learn to do everything to keep my mother healthy. I learned to cook, drive, and do other chores that weren't up my alley. Her medications soon became more expensive which meant I had to stop taking mine even if it was supposed to taken for 6 months.

I would often find myself having panic attacks at home especially when my mother felt a sense of discomfort, I was too anxious that something might happen again. There are days where I went on errands and would hear my mother in pain, I would then drive back home and pretend that I left something. There were nights where I would cry feeling sorry for myself and how helpless I felt. My mother would sometimes catch me and say I had to be strong for her. For everyone.

My dad lost his job and had his toes amputated in 2021. Basically, both of my parents were in and out of the hospital for a year. It was too expensive for my family. I no longer had access to medications nor seeing a therapist.

Somewhere in the middle of the pandemic, my anxiety worsened. My first two years of college were through online classes and even waiting for a zoom link would make me panic. There were many instances where my anxiety was triggered especially that my parents aren't that communicative, and somehow I need hyper-specific instructions in order to not spiral. Although I did not feel that I had a right to complain about what I was feeling since both my parents were also in pain.

When face-to-face classes began, my panic attacks became more frequent. I was anxious to step into the university since I had gained weight over the pandemic. I was anxious to see people I knew before. Due to the fear and looming anxiety of what might happen to my parents while I'm away, I had to commute everyday to school everyday. A 4-hour back and forth bus commute. I had classes that would end at 7 so I'd end up at home at 10, welcomed by a pile of dishes and other things to clean up. Things soon became too overwhelming for me but every time I mention an ounce of struggle, my mother would often say, "it's a part of life," "there are more students who struggle," "you have to be strong for us."

On the other hand, we were struggling financially which is also the reason why I commute, they could no longer afford to let me rent a room in the city. My allowance was only for bus fares, I could rarely eat lunch. Coming home late takes a toll on me and would consume a lot of time especially that I had so much to do for my classes. I also felt a sort of academic pressure, constantly trying maintain my scholarship despite the mental and emotional stress I deal at home.

I know this post is a bit lengthy, I just don't think I could talk about this to my friends. I just feel like my anxiety and constant panic attacks is getting in the way of my life and other capabilities. I often panic when there is an unfinished sentence, unclear instructions, or getting no response at all. Family drama also gets in the way since most of them tend to vent their problems towards me including my parents, but when it's my turn, no one seems to listen. I'm just constantly told to toughen up which sometimes don't make sense because all these years, I felt like I was tough. I refused to entertain life threatening thoughts because I had to take care of them. Sometimes I just wished someone looked after me too. Someone who could give me an assurance that it's okay to fear, to cry.