Taryn's story

​I can remember a time when I wasn’t anxious. A time when my happiness and self esteem were not predicated on my grades. The last time I felt that way was in 2006, when I was in grade 6. It’s hard to believe that there was ever a time when I could get a bad grade and be okay with it. When a B or C didn’t keep me up at night, when an exam or a test did not make me feel ill, and when I still had the ability to shrug off a less than stellar grade and think “I’ll do better next time.”

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However, even then, I always noticed that teachers placed intellectually gifted students on a pedestal, and made sure we all knew where we stood relative to that. They praised them before the whole class, and we were told that some people “just couldn’t be like them”. By the time I reached grade 7, the feelings of inferiority I had developed when teachers would point out how “average” the rest of us were in comparison got to me, and I was determined to be the best and the brightest I could be. This was a blessing and a curse: it was the beginning of the development of a strong work ethic that would carry me far, but the end of my mental health as I had known it. From that point on, I began a battle with anxiety and depression that would grow progressively worse and cripple me as I entered post-secondary education.
 
From grades 7 to 12, I was the golden student. I won every academic award there was to be earned, and I was consistently at the top of my class. Teachers absolutely loved me because they knew how hard I worked and how dedicated I was to all my classes. After all those years of being told I was merely “average”, the feeling of knowing that I could be the top if I worked hard enough was incredible. Finally, my hard work was recognized and I was the one being praised for being the best. My self-esteem went through the roof. However, once I had reached the top, the thought of ever being “second best” TERRIFIED me. I was obsessed and addicted to maintaining my rank as the top student because my self-esteem became entirely dependent on it. This is where the seeds of a vicious cycle of anxiety and depression began.


I first noticed signs of anxiety in grade seven and eight, when getting a 7 out of 10 on a worksheet would bother me for days on end or even cause me to cry. Matters got worse in grade nine and ten, especially during tests when I would encounter a question that I couldn’t answer. My ears and face would start to burn, and I would start sweating and crying right in the middle of class. My teachers noticed, and immediately recommended that I talk to my guidance counsellor about these issues. My peers, however, were not as sympathetic. I got called a freak an uncountable number of times because people didn’t and couldn’t understand the anxiety at the root of my perfectionism. Once I knew that my feelings went beyond the realm of normal stress, I began to taking medication to help combat my anxiety.
 
     Despite all this, I was very successful in high school. Like most students in math and science, I wanted to pursue a career in the medical field. For me, it was dentistry because I loved that the career demanded equal parts artistic skill and scientific knowledge. I applied to university for biomedical engineering, thinking it was smart to pick a degree that would provide me with a back-up career should I not be accepted to dental school. In the fall of 2012, I started university as one of the top 10 students entering into the engineering program with 4 scholarships behind me. This is where my life began to crumble.
 
Engineering was more difficult than I ever imagined it to be: the workload was overwhelming and the difficulty of the content was unbelievable. Reaching out to others for help and admitting I was struggling was no help. All I got back was a barrage of insults that ranged from “I can’t believe you don’t understand this” to “You’re too stupid to even be in university.” The difficulty of the work caused my anxiety to reach an all time high, which impacted my ability to write tests effectively. As my grades suffered and people continued to call me stupid, I became even more depressed and my self esteem suffered. Eventually, I switched out of engineering into science, thinking it would be less stressful while still allowing me to achieve my dream of becoming a dentist.
 
It wasn’t. The competition that existed within this program was even more fierce, as everyone wanted the same thing as I did. Knowing you need near perfect grades to even qualify for an interview at a dental or medical school raised my levels of anxiety even more, and the bragging that is so rampant among successful pre-med students made me feel even worse about myself. During second year, in my second semester in biomedical science, my anxiety reached an all time high: my test-taking ability was completely compromised and my grades suffered. It broke my heart to give up my dream of becoming a dentist, but I realized that no degree or designation was worth compromising my mental health and quality of life.
 
I am currently in accounting, and though the pressure to get the grades you need for a career in the medical field is gone, my anxiety is still as bad as it was in biomedical science. On exam days, my stomach becomes so upset that I get diarrhea. Eating is completely out of the question, unless I want to feel nauseous. During midterm and exam season, I’m lucky to even get 2 hours of sleep a night. Of course, poor nutrition and poor sleep patterns combined with anxiety completely ruin my ability to write exams well.  It doesn’t matter if I’ve studied a week ahead, 3-6 hours a day, and have been at the library until close for days—I almost always blank in the middle of my exams. Crying and feelings of helplessness and dread are a regular occurrence in my daily life, and living away from home without my family to help me makes matters worse.
 
I hope reading this will help someone feel a little less alone and a little better understood. Know that admitting you are struggling and asking for help is not a sign of weakness. Do not suffer in silence. Tell your story. It helps others better understand mental health and it’s the first step to getting the help you deserve.