Through the Rain: My Journey with Anxiety Before Becoming a Therapist
Anxiety is one of the most common mental health conditions worldwide. According to the World Health Organization, over 300 million people experience anxiety disorders. Despite its prevalence, anxiety remains deeply misunderstood — especially when it affects people who later go on to become helpers, professionals, and healers.
Before I became a therapist, I lived through a period of anxiety that nearly consumed me. And even now, with years of clinical experience behind me, I still carry the memory of what that struggle felt like. It was real. It was raw. And it changed me.
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What Anxiety Really Felt Like
Clinically, anxiety is often described as persistent worry, restlessness, and hypervigilance — the body stuck in fight-or-flight mode long after the danger has passed. But those words felt too neat to describe what I lived through.
My anxiety crept in slowly but firmly. Paranoia took root — the kind that made me second-guess myself and those around me. I was constantly flooded with self-doubt, unable to trust my own thoughts. I withdrew, afraid of being vulnerable. I smiled when I had to, but I was unraveling inside.
At the time, I didn’t know how to talk about it. I didn’t even know what to say. I just knew I felt off — and deeply alone.
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When Anxiety Spilled Into Every Area
Anxiety didn’t stay confined to my mind. It leaked into every area of my life.
It strained my relationship. I struggled to connect and became more reactive, more guarded. It damaged how I saw myself — I couldn’t recognize the person looking back at me. My confidence dissolved, and I became someone who constantly questioned whether I was enough.
I tried to pretend everything was fine. I told my family I was okay. But they knew I wasn’t. My parents could see through the lies — their concern was persistent, and that persistence mattered. It reminded me that I was still cared for, even when I was trying to push everyone away.
Eventually, I reached a breaking point. I had to step away from everything familiar. That decision wasn’t easy — but it was necessary. It gave me the space to finally face what was happening inside of me.
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Finding Help — and Hope
Recovery didn’t happen overnight. In fact, asking for help felt like walking through fire. But I took it one step at a time.
My family doctor was the first to really listen. They didn’t rush me. They made it safe to be honest. From there, I found a therapist who helped me untangle the web of thoughts and emotions I had buried. Therapy gave me language for what I was experiencing and reminded me I wasn’t alone.
My friends carried me through the darkest moments with laughter, distraction, and lightness. And the people who loved me — they stayed. Even when I pulled away. Even when I didn’t have the words.
Their support, patience, and refusal to give up on me helped more than they’ll ever know.
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What Science Says — and What I Lived
Research shows that anxiety disorders respond well to a combination of psychotherapy (especially Cognitive Behavioural Therapy), medication, and social support. Looking back, I see how closely my recovery followed this path — even if it didn’t feel clinical or structured at the time.
It felt like stumbling through a storm, trying to keep my head above water. But piece by piece, with care, support, and persistence, I found solid ground again.
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Lessons I Carried Into My Work
I don’t regret that chapter of my life. It was painful, yes. But it shaped who I became — as a person and later, as a therapist.
It taught me about resilience, vulnerability, and the quiet strength it takes to heal. It gave me compassion that no textbook could. It allowed me to sit with others in their pain without judgment, because I knew what it was like to be in that place.
When people assume therapists have it all figured out, I gently remind them: I’ve been there too. I’m not immune to pain — and that’s exactly why I do this work with so much heart.
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If You’re Struggling
If you’re in a hard place right now, please know this: healing is possible. It’s not linear, and it’s never perfect. But it’s worth it.
You don’t have to go through it alone. The rain doesn’t last forever.
I made it through. And so can you.
Jane Aure
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