I’ve always had anxiety. At least as far back as I remember. It was quite severe when I was a child, although I didn’t know it then. As with many other children, my anxiety took other forms.

I remember often feeling very uncomfortable as a child. I felt that something was wrong with me. Something that I didn’t understand, something beyond explanation. So sometimes I called these feelings headaches.

I was in Ontario for my first few years of school. I had headaches. A lot of headaches. I made plenty of trips to the office where I would lie down in a dark room. My memories of this are not very clear, but I do remember that I would pretend to sleep every time someone came in to use the photocopier. I did have real headaches as a child. Maybe that was why I would identify my anxiety with headaches. Headaches were familiar, anxiety was a mystery. I continued to complain of phantom headaches until I was over 10 years old.

My family moved from Ontario to Saskatchewan when I was 8. My anxiety made the trip with me. I recall the growing feelings of anxiety in my chest and sometimes my stomach. This became labeled as a stomach-ache.

Many times I told my teacher that I needed to go to the bathroom, and upon I return I would say that I vomited. This was done with the hope that I would be able to get picked up from school. My anxiety would get so bad that I was desperate to leave. Even if that meant lying to my teachers and my parents. There were many days where I didn’t go to school at all, due to whatever excuse I had crafted that morning or the night before.

School presentations or social events were very stressful for me. Occasionally I would fake an injury to avoid taking part in an activity. When I felt like was unable to take part in things due to my anxiety. I did whatever I had to do to escape some of the very stressful situations that were put in front of me.

All of this led to shame and guilt that no child should have to carry. I felt terrible about making things up, but I didn’t know any other way to express my pain. Something inside me was crying out, but I had no idea what it was. It was a monster. A monster that I could never see.

I have been able to piece a lot of my childhood together with hindsight. If only I could piece together my future too. But I do know one thing. I know what anxiety is. And I know how to handle it. Mostly.