I was an only child in a dual parent household. My mom and dad weren’t religious so we didn’t go to church. Both of my parents had great jobs but they required a lof of hours. So, at four-years-old, I started Montessori school. If you don’t know what that is, it’s basically an upgraded preschool. You did work, learned concepts, did art, and played. It’s an all-day thing from about 7:00 AM to 6:00 PM.

Because of going to Montessori school, I was able to skip kindergarten and go straight to first grade. This made me the youngest in my class.

While Montessori school was good for me, I do believe this is when my anxiety started. When my mom would drop me off, I would have an absolute meltdown. At four-years-old, I did not want to be separated from my mom who did everything with me. I would become inconsolable for quite awhile, almost making myself physically sick. Hello anxiety that will become a permanent fixture in my life, you have reared your ugly head!

At this time in my life, I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents. I was super close with my grandpa (Papa), who always let me paint his nails, put curlers in his hair, along with barrettes. My mom always said I was his favorite and that’s why he let me do it. I absolutely adored my Papa.

Fifteen days before my sixth birthday, my Papa passed away peacefully in his sleep. This was my first encounter with death and it didn’t go well. Usually, when you’re younger and lose someone, this is the first time you learn about death and its permanency. I became terrified.

At six-years-old I had my first, full-blown panic attack. I was trying to go to bed and all of a sudden it hit me. My mom could die, my dad could die, even my grandma!

I ran down the stairs with tears streaming down my face to my mom. She sat on the floor by the warm and cracking fire in the fireplace and I laid my head in her lap. She stroked my head and messed with my hair until I finally calmed down.

This incident started the concept of death as being one trigger to my anxiety. This also lead to my first time seeing a psychologist.

I only saw the psychologist twice but she said it was normal and would pass. It was also the very early 90s and no doctor was going to prescribe mental health medications to a six-year-old.

Unfortunately, the psychologist was wrong, it didn’t go away, and instead got worse. I still struggle with the concept of death daily, even so far as not wanting to celebrate my birthday because it makes me a year closer to death. However, I am stable on meds for anxiety now so I manage a lot better. It does still sneak up on me from time to time though.