How I “Cured” My Anxiety to Live a Life Worth Living
By: Jason Gutierrez
Tags: Mental Health, Life Lessons, Anxiety, Life, Self Improvement

Lots of people ask me how I “cured” my anxiety.

In fact, just the other day, a good friend of mine called me. He’s one of those guys that parties like a rockstar.

Work hard. Play hard.

That type of guy.

Early in the convo, he asked, “Hey, your brother said you’ve been through some shit — like anxiety and stuff. I’m having some problems of my own and wanted to talk about it.”

We spent about an hour talking.

He told me his story — the anxiety, panic attacks, feelings of impending doom — and then I told him mine. Mostly though, I just listened.

Toward the end of the call, he bluntly asked, “So, how did you finally cure your anxiety? How did you get rid of it?”

I love him to death, but at that moment, I felt sorry for him and the long journey ahead on his road to recovery.

Let me explain.

Anxiety Doesn’t Ever Go Away, At Least Not Really

I would never say that I have “cured” my anxiety. That’s just silly.

Would you ever find yourself saying you’ve cured your feelings of anger, lust, sadness, or surprise?

No…

Anxiety, like the rest of those feelings, is fleeting. And, usually, it’s not permanent.

Have I gotten a handle on my anxiety? Yes.

Would I say it’s gone forever? Absolutely not.

Am I able to continue living my life anyway, happy as can be? You bet your ass I can.

My Story

I didn’t always feel this way. When I was 17 and first experiencing the ill effects of stress and anxiety, I did what everyone else would’ve done — I went to the doctor.

“There must be something wrong with me to feel this way,” I thought to myself.

For most of my life, if I felt sick, I went to the doctor, who gave me a pill and told me to sit on my ass and wait until everything got better. I didn’t have to do or change anything while it worked its magic. Pretty awesome, right?

Western medicine led me to believe this was how healthcare worked.

You feel bad.

You take a pill.

Problem solved.

I had been conditioned to believe doctors had all the answers. Then, anxiety came along and wrecked my world.

Over the 5+ years I spent dealing with anxiousness, panic attacks, night terrors, and hypochondriasis, my beliefs on the system were shattered. Everything I thought I knew about health flew right out the window.

At my worst, I was home from college sleeping in the same bed as my mom — crying and feeling legitimately scared to fall asleep. Sleep paralysis is fun. At my best, I was out with friends, putting on an alcoholic mask to enjoy life for a few hours.

I saw doctors, specialists, therapists, you-name-it. Every one of them offered me a pill to make my problems go away. None of it worked.

Each time I saw someone new, I had to explain my ever-growing sob story. At the beginning of those appointments, the doctor would ask, “So, what brings you in today?”

“Well, it all started…”

And 10 minutes later the doctor would give me a puzzled look then say “I think we can take care of this.”

A few days later, after little to no improvement, I’d already started thinking about my next appointment.

I naively hoped each new professional would be the one to finally fix my life. But with every failed attempt, I slipped further and further into depression.

One fateful night- my “hero’s journey” moment as I call it — I had had enough.

I decided no more doctors. No more feeling like shit. No more feeling bad about myself.

That night, a fire lit inside me as I had never felt before. It’s as if I had hit rock bottom and my only way back up was to rise to the occasion. Think Bruce Wayne in The Dark Knight Rises.