The end of October and beginning of November was a complete blur. It was hard. It was raining all the time, and I found myself isolated in a not very nice tiny town near Paris. Would it be too extreme if I say I literally saw how my mental health went down during those weeks? I still ask myself what was the thing that triggered all that anxiety and sad/gray days I went through.

Was it the people I had around? The place? The stress?

I had never felt so alone in my life. I felt desperate, as if my body was screaming HELP.

I couldn’t stand being alone.

I was afraid.

I was worried and overwhelmed.

It is sad when I think about those days. It still shatters my heart. It still brings nostalgia and a couple of tears.

It all started one day while I was on the train. I experienced a panic/anxiety mild attack. It was all in my head. Yes. No one could actually tell how scared I was because I was trying my best to hide it. I didn’t want people to see how vulnerable I was. But my heart was racing. My mind was going wild. I was sweating, and my hands were shaking. I had the urge to runaway and get the hell out of that train.

To be honest, it was more the experience itself that scared me and depressed me. I thought I was losing myself. I don’t think I had experienced something that strongly.

Then I heard some voices saying – «you’re not strong emotionally»,- and someone questioning me -«are you always going to be like that? is it genetic? does anyone in your family has it?» – DAMN, how is it possible to be that insensitive and cruel? That was the breaking point. I really needed some words of affirmation and support, but what I got was emotional abuse. Agressive words. And that tore me down. I felt incapable. I felt helpless. I felt alone. I felt far away from everyone. I felt stuck in a black hole.

I went through very hard days that felt like years. I was waking up in the middle of the night screaming in my head, with such anxiety in my chest and tears running through my cheeks. I couldn’t stand breakfast. I was nauseous and throwing up because of all the acid I had. I saw slowly how my body changed. I lost a couple of kg. Not too much, but enough to see my pants all loose and shapeless against my skin.

I was afraid of hoping on the train again. I was afraid of going out. I was tired after sleepless nights. I was weak. I was sad. I was a big mess far away from home. I was in Paris and yet feeling so bad.

But guess what? I had to lift myself up because I knew no one else would. I had to force myself to brush my teeth, take showers, swallow the food, and go out. IT WAS HARD THE FIRST TIMES. Oh yes, it was tough. I wanted to cry all the time. I was in such a vulnerable state. I wanted someone to just hold me in their arms and say «hey, everything’s fine, you are safe». But then I realized that it was me the one who had to speak softly to myself. The one who had to hug me, touch gently my arms, and love me once again.

I gained strength after a lovely letter I received unexpectedly by mail. Those sweet words were more than enough «You can do this».

I gained strength after those long conversations over the phone with my parents.

I gained strength after the sessions with my amazing and wise therapist.

I gained strength after having phonically, video calls, messages, and strolls on the park with my friends.

I gained strength right after I understood the situation, and let myself feel the emotions without being scared. I gained myself back.