If I were to have a panic attack, where is the nearest exit to me? That is a question I ask myself everyday when I walk into a new building, classroom, or unknown area. Teachers that give assigned seating are the best, because once I claim my seat, I know that the seat closest to the door is officially mine for the rest of the semester. It's a sort of calming feeling to know that. Now, the classes that are a problem are those where you fight for your seat, so everyone tries to get there early. I walk in, see someone in that coveted 'near the exit' seat, and a sense of slight panic runs through my body. Should I ask them if they mind trading seats? Should I just be logical and listen to my mind, which tells me I'm overreacting? Ah. So I settle into the next best seat, feeling a slightly bit on edge the entire class time. :50 minutes later, when class lets out, it is freedom again, and the anxiety subsides. This is my life. Yes, I worried about how I will complete my law school readings, I worry about how I will finish writing that grad school paper, and I even worry about just waking up to go to class on time. I just also happen to worry about how I will exit a building if I were to feel enclosed and panicky, and these extra little stresses and irrational worries are what defines me. Agoraphobia, the fear of being in places where help may not be available, is a tough thing to deal with as a young adult. Being anxious about getting that ideal seat closest to the exit is just one of the many situations in which is arises. Imagine driving down a highway and realizing you are too far to drive back from where you came from, but still too far away from the place where you are going. The panic sets in. What if all of a sudden, you can't breathe? Who will you turn to? You're too far away from anyone. So you start looking for a police station, a fire dept, or (my personal favorite) the nearest hospital. And you start planning the way you will go about getting to that hospital. But then you remember all the articles you've read that mention how the average wait time in the US for an ER patient is over an hour. And the panic grows. And your hands start sweating, you feel lightheaded, and you are having a hard time catching your breath. This is me. This is my life. This is what I've known since the age of 8, and I've learned to accept my anxiety as a part of my life. The (few) times it has been temporarily treated, I feel empty. I guess you can say I don't feel complete without it. For now, I'm just planning my move for tomorrow...how early I will need to get to class to get the seat closest to the exit.