There are so many types of illness one could have, but not all illnesses are visible to the naked eye. When you see someone in a wheelchair, you can see that they’re handicapped. When someone has anxiety, you won’t quite see it unless they have an attack.

I am one of those people with an “invisible” illness. Anxiety was never something that I knew I had when I was younger. I would have little attacks here and there, but my parents just brushed it off, thinking that I was only freaking out because I was literally afraid of everything.

It wasn’t until about a year ago when I had my first serious attack. I began to feel disconnected to my body, like my heart was moving faster than the movements my body was actually making. My mom, who has anxiety herself, began to realize that I may have a serious issue. She took me to my doctor the next day, and we found  out that I had a mild type of anxiety. She explained that if I could try to stay calm and control myself, I wouldn’t need any medication – which sounded great to me, because I did not want to be seen as “sick” to my friends.

I later began to regret not asking for medication, because after my first serious attack, I began to have more. I hated the type of discomfort that these attacks were making me feel, but I had to learn how to control myself. Having mild anxiety has allowed me to bond more with my mom, because she has been my anchor through it all – her anxiety is way more severe than mine is, but she has learned to control it, which made me feel more comfortable to confide in her.

Just because my illness isn’t that visible, doesn’t mean that I don’t have it. Whenever my friends see me starting to have an attack, they think that I am doing it for attention, until my mom steps in and explains to them what is really going on. I just want to bring awareness to the many “invisible” illnesses that exist, because you never know what someone could be going through.

Remember when we took those tests where we would have to bubble in what we were; White, Black, Asian, Native American, Hispanic/Latino, Pacific Islander, etc.? Well, not anymore.

Earlier this week I had to get fingerprinted for some community service that I was going to be doing. When they asked me to identify myself, I put Hispanic/Latino and White since I’m mixed. When I went to get the actual prints, the lady asked me to check if all of my information was correct in the system. I looked at the screen and noticed that she only selected White. I told her that I was mixed, and she said, “well, our system doesn’t really have that as an option. I had to select White otherwise you would be listed as unknown”. I asked her what she meant by that, and she said that the system only identified people as 4 things: White, Black, Asian, and unknown. At this point I was so confused. Was everything that I ever thought about myself a lie?

I went home and did some research, and it turns out that Hispanic/Latino is more of a culture than an actual race. Now, instead of having our own category, we are now going to be lumped into another – one that fits us the best by the color of our skin. After coming to understand that this is what it’s going to be like, I felt like I had lost my sense of identity; I never thought that a single phrase – “well, that would just make you unknown in the system” – could affect me so much. I never thought that my skin tone would feel like the only thing that defined me. I felt like I was an alien, and to be quite honest I was kind of offended by this, because I was taught all throughout all my years that Hispanic/Latino was a race; and now all of a sudden someone was going to strip me of everything that I ever thought and believed, and tell me that I am technically unknown in the system, and to make things easier she was just going to enter me as White. Although I am half White, I don’t like the fact that I feel like I am in a way “disowning” my dad’s side. I just wish that I could have been better educated in the past, that way I wouldn’t have to feel so confused as an adult.

I used to hide my freckles.

Up until I went to high school, I never thought twice about how I looked. I would literally just throw on a t-shirt and some jeans, put my hair into a ponytail, and walk out of the house. Around the beginning of high school, one of my friends pointed out that I had freckles. At first, I was confused because I had gone all my life without realizing this, and now I was afraid that I would be made fun of for having them.

I thought that my freckles were interesting, but I was afraid that other people would not think the same way. I used to get picked on from 6th-8th grade, and I did not want to start at a new school and have the past repeat itself. I decided that I would rarely talk to people at school, and keep my head in the books – literally.

By the time I hit the 12th grade, only few people had noticed my freckles, but they were my friends. I remember my sister taking me to the MAC store because she was so obsessed with “putting some color on [my] face”. Now, for the most part I agreed to get my make up done, because I thought it would be fun. The makeup artist there had given me some concealer for my dark circles, and some foundation that gave me a more tan – but still natural – look. I was in awe. I loved the way that all my flaws had seemed to disappear; all but my freckles.

The more I wore my makeup, the more my freckles seemed to disappear. Had I grown fond of them? I think I had. Although I felt as though people would make fun of me for having freckles, I still believed that they were pretty cool. My dad has a lot of freckles on his back and face, and I felt having freckles was actually a pretty interesting thing. Not many of my relatives have freckles, and I liked that fact that I was one of the few that did – it gave me a sense of connection with my family, and after staring at my face for countless hours a day, I started to like them.

I decided that it was time to retire the makeup for awhile. I went with a more natural look. I slept earlier, to help get rid of my bags, and I applied Ponds to my face morning and night. My face began to glow in a different way than it had before, and I was really starting to like it. A lot of people began complimenting me, saying that wearing no makeup looked a lot better on me than makeup did – and my freckles would get complimented too!

I still wear makeup sometimes if I am going out somewhere, or just because I am in the mood to look a bit more “girly”, but I love being able to take a break from it all to embrace my true, natural self.

As the years go by, more people are joining social media and posting almost every second of their lives, as if the rest of the world really wants to know. Don’t get me wrong though, because I used to be one of those people. Social media allows us all to hide behind our profiles, and it gives us an opportunity to be whoever we want.

I used to be obsessed with Instagram. When I first made an account, I was 14. I took pictures on top of my dad’s trucks, and of my shoe collection, because those were the things that were cool to me. By the time I started high school, I realized that I was quite unpopular, and I just wanted to be noticed. I decided to delete my account, and create a new one – for the new me.

The new me was really into my appearance. I went from taking selfies in a “Cool Story, Bro.” t-shirt, to taking selfies with all of my older sister’s clothing. I learned how to position the camera in ways that made my double-chin disappear, and made my face look “cuter”. I became so obsessed with selfies that I would literally take one everywhere. Throughout my high school career, I noticed my followers had gone up from the 15 I had from my first account, to 700+, even though my profile was private. I was ecstatic! Finally, people were noticing me. Kids that I was dying to be friends with my freshman year were now complementing me as I walked the halls during sophomore year.

Even though I started to get noticed, I honestly didn’t like all the attention I was getting. People were now viewing me in a lustful way, and nobody was really trying to get to know the real me – and that’s probably because I wasn’t quite advertising the real me. I decided to let the real me shine. Instead of getting creative with all the angles and lighting to take the “perfect selfie”, I decided to become more creative with my captions, since the real me actually likes to write. I felt a lot more comfortable with myself and the things I was posting, than I did when I was seeking popularity.

I want people to see the real me, instead of just half of my face and duck lips. I’ve made my profile more about my life, with the occasional selfie here and there, instead of just a shrine to the new – now old – me. Any picture can be perfect, you just have to be yourself.