My Story: How Anxiety Impacted My Asthma

I don’t really consider myself an asthma advocate. I’m a blogger at heart. I like to write; I don’t like to talk. A few years ago, I went to Washington D.C. to “advocate” on Capitol Hill. I had to speak with Congressmen to try to convince them to vote for asthma-related bills. And honestly, I hated every moment of it. It was incredibly uncomfortable for me to talk to people in that setting.

Advocating in that way just isn’t for me. Others in the asthma community do it and do it well, but not me. My advocacy comes through my writing. This is my gift. Writing is what I do best, and I will continue to write about asthma until everyone is aware of the disease—or until asthma is no longer a problem.

And I’ll keep doing this, even if I end up repeating myself. Thankfully, even after doing this since 2007, I’ve never truly repeated myself. Somehow, I keep coming up with new ideas for asthma-related topics on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. It’s because this is my passion. Writing about asthma is what I love. I don’t do videos, and I’ll never return to Washington D.C. as an advocate. That’s simply not my gift.

I want to share something personal with you today, something I’ve never shared before. As a child, I would often suffer from asthma attacks for hours, sometimes days, before I gathered the courage to tell my parents. Can you imagine that? There were times when I could only take in half a breath in my bedroom in the middle of the night. I’d even poke my head out the window, hoping the fresh air would help (and, to be honest, it did help a little).

There were moments when I cried in frustration. But still, I didn’t tell my parents. I wrote about this on my blog several years ago, and one fellow asthma blogger commented: “Why wouldn’t you tell your parents if you were feeling so bad?”

At the time, I didn’t have an answer. I simply replied, “I don’t know.” I still don’t fully understand why I was so afraid to ask for help. My parents were loving and caring, yet I still held back. This wasn’t a one-time thing—it happened many times. I suffered in silence, unsure how to reach out for help.

You might ask, “How did your parents not notice?” Well, it was because of me. I was an expert at pretending. I’d walk by my parents, shoulders down, holding my breath so they couldn’t see how badly I was struggling.

Eventually, I found the courage to wake them up. Every time, they were empathetic, rushing me to the hospital. So, why did I wait so long to tell them? That’s a question I couldn’t answer—until recently.

In 1985, I spent six months at an asthma hospital in Denver, where I was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder. It wasn’t caused by my asthma. It was a completely separate issue. The doctors explained that my anxiety was exacerbating my asthma. They worked with me to help manage my anxiety so I could better manage my asthma and seek help immediately when I needed it.

The thing is, I could speak just fine in comfortable settings. But when I was in an uncomfortable situation—like feeling miserable and needing to wake my parents—I’d freeze. I couldn’t communicate when I felt stressed. This was true at school too. Surrounded by people, I would rarely, if ever, raise my hand to speak with teachers, and my grades suffered as a result.

Looking back, I can see how anxiety and asthma were intertwined. Learning to address my anxiety has been key to managing both. And by sharing my story, I hope others can find the courage to speak up when they need help.

Living with Asthma and Anxiety: A Journey of Growth

I started blogging about my asthma back in 2007. It didn’t take long before I met other people with asthma who were also blogging. We formed a tight-knit group, all sharing our struggles and triumphs. One day, I wrote about a severe asthma attack I had when I was 10, "A Tough Evening In A Smoke Filled Room." I didn’t tell my parents right away, even though I was scared and struggling to breathe. Eventually, I woke them up, and my dad rushed me to the emergency room.

One of my fellow bloggers asked, “Why didn’t you tell your parents sooner?” At the time, I wasn’t sure why. It seems like the obvious thing to do when you’re sick, right? But for me, I didn’t. I replied to my friend, “I don’t know. Sadly, it happened a lot when I was a kid.”

Looking back, it’s a little sad. It’s hard to admit that I had to deal with asthma alone sometimes. Even harder to admit that I was afraid to wake my parents. But looking back, I can also see how much I’ve grown and how much we can learn from experiences like these.

In 1985, I was admitted to an asthma hospital in Denver, Colorado. They treated me for asthma but also recognized something else: anxiety. They told me that my anxiety was making it harder for me to manage my asthma. And that’s when everything started to make sense.

I talked to counselors, psychologists, and even a psychiatrist. The psychologist diagnosed me, and the psychiatrist prescribed me some medication to help with my anxiety. At just 15, I was open to all of it. I wanted to get better, and I wanted to learn how to live my life without fear.

Having both asthma and anxiety wasn’t easy, but over time, I’ve learned how to manage both. Yes, it takes work, but I’ve proven that it’s possible to live a full, healthy life with both conditions. Here’s the thing: managing asthma and managing anxiety go hand in hand. When you focus on controlling one, you’re also helping the other. But it’s not always simple—admitting you need help with anxiety can be a big challenge, especially when it feels irrational.

I was fortunate to be diagnosed and treated early. Not everyone is so lucky. Many people with anxiety never get an official diagnosis, and many don’t seek help. But treatment is possible, whether through relaxation techniques, therapy, or medication. It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.

What Is Anxiety?

I’m not a doctor, so I’ll share what anxiety feels like from my own experience. To me, anxiety is about fear, worry, and nervousness. It’s a constant sense of dread, like a weight on your chest. You feel uneasy, even in situations that shouldn’t cause fear.

Two Types of Asthma Anxiety

There are two kinds of anxiety that I’ve personally experienced, and I think they’re both important to recognize.

1. Anxiety Caused by Asthma: This one’s pretty straightforward. When you can’t breathe, you get scared. Everyone with asthma has probably felt this. It’s the panic that sets in when an asthma attack hits, and it’s hard to control the fear of it getting worse. But,  this anxiety can be helpful. It reminds you to get the help you need, whether it’s reaching for your inhaler or calling for help.

2. Anxiety That’s Always There (Not Caused by Asthma): This kind of anxiety is more subtle and harder to recognize. It’s the anxiety you feel all the time, whether or not you’re experiencing an asthma attack. It can be fear of what others think or worrying that you’re bothering someone (like I was afraid of bothering my parents). It’s irrational, and yet, it’s there. This kind of anxiety can be hard to pinpoint, and many people go through life without realizing they have it. But it’s real. And it can be managed.

Finding Strength in Anxiety

The good news is, anxiety doesn’t have to control your life. It’s natural to feel anxious when you’re having trouble breathing, but it doesn’t have to prevent you from seeking help. If you’re a child, you wake up your parents. If you’re an adult, you call your doctor or head to the emergency room. Anxiety can drive you to take action, to do what you need to do to get better.

But anxiety can also be harmful when it stops you from asking for help. When asthma and anxiety combine, it can create a barrier to getting the care you need. That’s why it’s so important to address both asthma and anxiety. Once you acknowledge both, you can start to take control of your health and your life.

Living with asthma and anxiety may be a challenge, but it’s not a life sentence. You can learn to manage both. I’m living proof of that. Through therapy, medication, and learning to manage my asthma, I’ve been able to live a fulfilling life. It takes work, but it’s worth it.

So, if you’re struggling with asthma and anxiety, know that you’re not alone. There’s hope. With the right support, the right tools, and a willingness to ask for help, you can manage both and live your life to the fullest. It’s not always easy, but it’s always possible.

Did Our Diets Cause The Asthma Crisis?

Asthma, once a rare condition, became a modern health crisis in the 1980s. Today, more than 300 million people around the world live with asthma, and that number continues to grow.

In the United States, the age-adjusted asthma death rate increased by a shocking 46% in the 1980s. From 1980 to 1989, it jumped from 1.3 to 1.9 per 100,000 people. By 2019, asthma caused 262 million cases and 461,000 deaths globally.

Compare that to the early 1900s when asthma was hardly known, and asthma-related deaths were virtually non-existent before 1920. Back then, the condition was a rare curiosity, mostly misunderstood by the medical community.

But as the mid-20th century rolled in, mortality rates began to rise, signaling the growing problem. By the 1980s, asthma wasn’t just uncommon anymore; it was an epidemic.

The increase in asthma cases became especially visible in schools, where children started carrying albuterol inhalers. This wasn’t an isolated problem but a widespread health issue, and the reasons behind this surge are still debated. Several theories point to the changing landscape of our diets.

By the 1980s, processed foods—packed with preservatives, artificial ingredients, and additives—became dietary staples. Companies like Kellogg's marketed sugary cereals, promising a healthy start to the day, all while adding little nutritional value. These chemicals and additives are believed to contribute to inflammation and allergic reactions, weakening the immune system and creating the ideal conditions for asthma to develop.

Another major factor is the environment. With rapid urbanization and industrialization, exposure to chemicals in our surroundings became more common. Less time spent outdoors, coupled with a more sedentary lifestyle, likely exacerbated the problem.

Asthma treatments have come a long way since the 1950s, when asthma cigarettes and inhalers containing epinephrine were common. These early treatments were not just ineffective but often dangerous. In the 1960s and 1970s, medications like Alupent and theophylline offered more relief, but still had risks. Over-the-counter remedies like Tedral and Bronkaid became popular, despite their potential side effects.

Then, in the 1980s, albuterol arrived on the scene as a game-changer. This fast-acting rescue medication became a lifesaver for millions, providing quick relief from asthma symptoms. But with its widespread use, the increasing prevalence of asthma became all the more apparent.

Today, asthma is everywhere. It’s almost impossible to find a classroom without a few kids with inhalers tucked into their pockets or bags. In public spaces, it’s common to see people using inhalers without thinking twice. What was once a private, even embarrassing moment for asthmatics has now become completely normalized.

The rise in asthma begs an important question: could it be the food we’re eating that’s contributing to this modern health crisis? Bobby Kennedy, the current nominee for the Department of Health and Human Services, has suggested that our processed diets may be a major factor. I agree with this theory.

The chemicals, preservatives, and artificial ingredients in our food have created a perfect storm for diseases like asthma to flourish. These substances can cause inflammation, oxidative stress, and a range of other issues that we are just beginning to understand. It’s not just about asthma; it’s about the way we are fueling our bodies, and how these modern diets are affecting our overall health.

To solve this problem, we need to focus on what’s in our food and how it’s impacting us. It’s not enough to just manage the symptoms of asthma; we need to address the root causes. By reevaluating our diets and taking action, we can start reversing the trend and working toward a healthier future for the next generation.

The increase in asthma should serve as a wake-up call. It’s time to stop and think about how the foods we eat are shaping our health. We have the power to make changes now, so that future generations can breathe easier.

Chapter 3: The Dawn of Homo Sapiens Sapiens and Early Medicine

Modern humans, known as Homo sapiens sapiens, first appeared in Africa around 200,000 years ago. By approximately 100,000 years ago, they began migrating out of Africa, eventually spreading across the globe. These early humans were more anatomically and behaviorally advanced than their predecessors, including Homo habilis, Homo erectus, and earlier forms of Homo sapiens . Their bodies were more suited for walking long distances, allowing them to travel to various parts of the world in search of food. As they adapted to different environments, they also developed better tools and hunting techniques .

As Patricia Netzley notes in her book World History Series: The Stone Age, these early Homo sapiens sapiens lacked the pronounced facial features of the Neanderthals and had taller, less robust bodies. In appearance, they were quite similar to modern humans. Netzley explains, "Longer legs gave them the ability to travel longer distances, which meant they came into contact with many other tribes of people. This exposure to other cultures and ideas may be the source of their greater creativity compared to their ancestors" . Additionally, these humans made a wide variety of tools, utilizing materials such as rock, bone, antlers, ivory, and wood . They fashioned weapons like saws, chisels, flint axes, spears, bows, and arrows. Thin pieces of bone were used as needles to sew hides into clothing . These advancements enabled them to hunt larger animals, like the Woolly Mammoth, and they used every part of the animals they killed—eating the meat, using the bones for tools, and creating ornaments and beads from leftover materials .

They likely developed a form of communication, possibly both verbal and artistic. Cave paintings found in several locations suggest that these early humans used art to record their activities and relay knowledge to future generations . Language, though speculative, must have existed to facilitate hunting coordination, knowledge-sharing, and the teaching of traditions, myths, and medicinal practices .

While there is little direct evidence of medical practices from this period, it’s reasonable to assume that Homo sapiens sapiens developed rudimentary forms of medicine. They likely provided care to the injured and sick, experimenting with herbs and natural substances as remedies. As they had no concept of internal diseases, their explanations of ailments likely involved the supernatural—perhaps attributing sickness to spirits or demons. Netzley hypothesizes that such beliefs led to the development of rituals, incantations, and prayers aimed at appeasing these spirits .

According to historian Fielding Hudson Garrison, primitive people often worshiped natural forces and elements, like the sun, moon, and storms, which they believed were controlled by spirits. Disease was thought to be caused by malevolent forces and could only be cured by appeasing these spirits . Garrison explains that these early humans would offer sacrifices and engage in rituals to ward off disease or misfortune. They might have believed that diseases were caused by human enemies with supernatural powers or by offended spirits of the dead .

Given the prevalence of respiratory diseases today, it's plausible that early humans experienced symptoms similar to asthma or bronchitis. While these diseases may not have existed in their current forms, infections and environmental factors could have caused airway inflammation, leading to breathing difficulties .

As empathy developed within these early communities, humans began to care for one another more attentively. Mothers would comfort their children when they were hurt, using simple remedies such as applying mud to burns or massaging sore muscles. These actions represented the earliest forms of caregiving, laying the foundation for more formalized medical practices .

By the time Homo sapiens sapiens had fully established themselves across various regions, they had created complex societies with spiritual beliefs, healing practices, and sophisticated tools. These developments mark the dawn of medicine, which would evolve as human understanding of the body and disease grew over time .

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References:

1. Netzley, Patricia D. World History Series: The Stone Age, San Diego, CA: Lucent Books, 1998.
2. Roberts, J.M. The Illustrated History of the World: Prehistory and the First Civilizations: Volume I, New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
3. BBC Science and Nature, "Neanderthal: Their Bodies Were Well Equipped to Cope with the Ice Age," http://www.bbc.co.uk/sn/tvradio/programmes/horizon/neanderthal_prog_summary.shtml (accessed April 4, 2013).
4. Garrison, Fielding Hudson. An Introduction to the History of Medicine, 3rd ed., Philadelphia and London: W.B. Saunders Company, 1922.
5. Sigerist, Henry E. History of Medicine: Volume I: Primitive and Archaic Medicine, New York: Oxford University Press, 1951.

Asthma History: Chapter 2: The Origins of Human Empathy and Illness

The first Homo sapiens, our direct ancestors, appeared around 200,000 to 300,000 years ago in Africa. Even before that, human-like species, or hominins, walked the Earth for millions of years. These early hominins, including species like Homo habilis and Homo erectus, paved the way for modern humans with their ability to adapt, invent tools, and form social groups.

While we can never know exactly what life was like for early humans, we do know they faced many challenges. These challenges—finding food, shelter, and avoiding predators—often required cooperation and care within their small communities. Empathy, in its earliest form, likely evolved from the need to support one another for survival. Sharing food, protecting the sick or injured, and caring for offspring were vital to their existence.

The Role of Disease in Early Human Life

It’s impossible to know precisely what diseases afflicted early humans, as there are no written records or medical descriptions from that time. However, it’s safe to assume that, much like today, infections and injuries were common causes of death. Viruses and bacteria existed long before humans, so early humans likely suffered from respiratory infections, colds, and other illnesses.

But what about asthma and other chronic diseases? While it's difficult to say if asthma, as we understand it today, existed in ancient times, respiratory symptoms like wheezing, coughing, and shortness of breath could have occurred, particularly in response to infections, smoke from fires, or environmental factors. Chronic diseases often affect older populations, and most early humans did not live long enough to develop them. However, it is possible that some children developed asthma-like symptoms.

Given that asthma tends to develop in childhood, it’s conceivable that children may have suffered from it in prehistoric times. With no effective way to diagnose or treat severe asthma attacks, these children might have died without anyone fully understanding what was happening. Their symptoms may have been dismissed as the result of an illness or bad air, with no one recognizing the chronic nature of the condition.

Early Humans and Empathy

While we can't be certain whether asthma existed, we do know that early humans, including Neanderthals, demonstrated care for their fellow beings. Archaeological evidence shows that Neanderthals, who lived from about 400,000 to 40,000 years ago, cared for their sick and injured. For instance, remains of Neanderthal skeletons show signs of long-term injuries, suggesting that others helped them survive for many years after their accidents—an early form of empathy in action.

It is also believed that Neanderthals and other early humans practiced burial rituals, providing food or tools to accompany their dead in the afterlife. These behaviors suggest that they had developed emotional bonds, cared for one another, and possibly had early forms of communication and tradition.

The Birth of Early Medicine

The act of caring for the sick—whether offering food, water, or shelter—can be considered the earliest form of medicine, though not in the sense we know today. These early people likely had no concept of disease as we understand it. However, they observed the effects of illness and injury, and they learned to respond to it with empathy, offering what little comfort they could.

While the term “healthcare” would be anachronistic, early human empathy laid the groundwork for the development of communal support systems. This would have been essential for survival, as caring for the injured or sick helped ensure the tribe’s strength and longevity.

The Evolution of Human Adaptation

About 1.8 million years ago, Homo erectus emerged. These early humans were remarkable for their ability to migrate and adapt to various environments. They were the first to use fire, around 400,000 years ago, which allowed them to cook food, stay warm, and protect themselves from predators. Fire also provided them with more leisure time, which may have contributed to social bonding, storytelling, and further cognitive development.

As they migrated out of Africa, Homo erectus and later species like Homo neanderthalensis adapted to new environments by inventing tools, developing hunting strategies, and learning to cope with colder climates. These adaptations were crucial as the climate fluctuated and food sources became scarce. Empathy and cooperation continued to play a central role in survival, especially during times of crisis.

The Neanderthals and Their Legacy

Neanderthals, though not direct ancestors of modern humans, were close relatives. They lived in small groups, mainly in caves, and relied on hunting and gathering. Archaeological evidence suggests that Neanderthals cared for their sick and disabled, providing food and shelter for those unable to hunt. For example, one burial site revealed the remains of a man who had lived for many years without the use of one arm, indicating that others must have helped him survive.

Around 45,000 years ago, the climate in Europe began to change rapidly, transforming the forests on which the Neanderthals depended into open plains. This sudden shift in their environment, combined with the arrival of modern humans, may have contributed to their extinction. Homo sapiens, with more advanced tools and social structures, were better able to adapt to the changing landscape.

Empathy and Early Medicine in Context

In a world where survival depended on cooperation, early humans and their ancestors had to care for one another. They shared food, provided warmth, and nursed the sick—basic acts of empathy that can be seen as the foundations of medicine. However, these early forms of care were not guided by medical knowledge but rather by necessity and emotional bonds.

While there is no evidence that diseases like asthma were prevalent, respiratory symptoms likely existed due to infections or environmental factors. What we do know is that early humans, including Neanderthals, demonstrated care for their fellow beings, offering what could be seen as the earliest forms of healthcare.

Today, we continue to build on the legacy of empathy and caregiving that has been part of human evolution for millions of years.

References:

1. Netzley, Patricia D, "World History Series: The Stone Age," 1998, San Diego, CA, Lucent Books
2. Roberts, J.M., "The illustrated History of the World: Prehistory and the first civilizations: volume I," 1999, New York, Oxford University Press
3. "Neanderthal: Their bodies were well equopped to cope with the ice age, so why did the Neanderthals die out when it ended," bbc.co.uk, Science and Nature, http://www.bbc.co.uk/sn/tvradio/programmes/horizon/neanderthal_prog_summary.shtml, accessed 4/4/13
4. Garrison, Fielding Hudson, "An Introduction to the history of medicine," 1921, 3rd edition, Philadelphia and London, W.B. Saunders and Company

Asthma Induced Anxiety Versus Anxiety Induced Asthma

An important topic I wanted to discuss is the different ways anxiety and asthma can co-exists. Allow me to break it down this way. 

1. Asthma Induced Anxiety. You typically do not experience anxiety. However, when you get short of breath this causes you to experience anxiety. You get stressed, worry, and maybe even panic due to the feeling you can't catch your breath. 
2. Anxiety Induced Asthma. You have anxiety that you experience on a daily basis. And this causes you to worry or fear things, perhaps irrationally. For example, you forget to take your medications therefore your asthma gets worse. Or, you experience your early warning symptoms of asthma and worry about what others will think, so you fail to seek help when you need to. 

Why did I not seek help for asthma as a kid?

Lately, I've been more open about my experiences with anxiety. I recognize that I'm not alone in facing the challenge of both asthma and anxiety, and by sharing my story, I hope to kickstart important conversations on this topic. Given that I've been transparent about my asthma for several years, it feels natural to extend that openness to my experiences with anxiety as well.

Several years ago I wrote about my "tough experience in a smoke filled room." And I wrote other similar stories about how I would suffer with asthma for hours, and sometimes days, before breaking down and telling my parents. And the'd rush me to the emergency room, where they'd have me breathing easy after shots of epinephrine and steroids. 

And, in response to one of these articles, one of my fellow asthma bloggers wrote something to the effect of, "What? How could you feel so miserable and not tell your parents? And how could your parents not recognize that their son was feeling so miserable?" 

At the time, my response was a simple," I don't know. I guess I just didn't want to bother my parent." 

Today, however, I seem to have a better understanding of why I failed to tell my parents. I admit now that I have anxiety. And that anxiety made me very self conscious and afraid to approach adults. And today I am aware that I have a specific type of anxiety called social anxiety disorder, perhaps even selective mutism. And this makes it so that, you feel so uncomfortable in certain situations that you do not talk. And this would explain why I never sought help even though I knew I should. 

How Has Anxiety Impacted My Life

As I noted in this post here, I was diagnosed with anxiety at a young age. This was back in the 1980s when I spent six months at an asthma hospital. Back then, my counselors and psychologists did not specify what type of anxiety I had. And this is because such specificity about anxiety did not exist. However, they were able to determine that my anxiety probably was effecting my asthma. 

How did anxiety impact my asthma? Before being admitted to the asthma hospital, I often experienced asthma symptoms. However, instead of seeking help, I would try to manage it independently. My anxiety played a significant role in this decision—I worried about burdening my parents and feared potential judgment from doctors regarding my frequent use of the rescue inhaler. Due to these concerns and others, I hesitated to involve adults in my care. Unfortunately, this anxiety-driven reluctance to seek assistance led to inadequate self-care, allowing my asthma to worsen.

Back then and for many years thereafter, I vehemently denied having anxiety. I was even irritated that the specialists caring for me would suggest it while I adamantly declared, 'I don't have anxiety, I have asthma.' Despite my resistance, they skillfully addressed my anxiety, emphasizing the importance of seeking help promptly when experiencing symptoms rather than attempting to handle it alone.

Repeatedly, they emphasized the crucial message that seeking help promptly and addressing asthma episodes early on was the most effective strategy for gaining better control. Additionally, they underscored the significance of consistent use of my asthma controller medicines—emphasizing the importance of taking them daily and avoiding forgetting or skipping doses.

Furthermore, they provided thorough education on all of my medications, plus education about proper inhaler and nebulizer usage. And these efforts, ensured that my technique with these devices was stellar to guarantee I was receiving the correct dose of my respiratory medications. To help me control the anxiety itself they prescribed for me a medication called Xanax. 

All these measures did seem to help me obtain better asthma control despite my anxiety and my asthma. And, in return, these allowed me to enjoy a much better quality of life once I was discharged from the asthma hospital in July of 1985. I somehow managed to keep my asthma well controlled for the next several years. And I managed to keep myself out of the emergency room for the next six years. And this was a HUGE improvement from the years prior to my stay at the asthma hospital. 

Did Asthma Lead Me To My Job As An RT?

Did asthma cause you to become a respiratory therapist? Because I'm so open about my asthma I get asked this question quite a bit. And the answer is both yes and no. 

As a child, I felt most at ease having deep conversations about God and life in general with my mom, rather than my dad. My mother always had an approachable and open demeanor, making our discussions easy. However, there were a few occasions when my dad offered me his concise advice. Typically, these moments happened when we were alone, such as during a hospital visit when I was the patient.

I vividly recall one incident during a Thanksgiving trip to Uncle Torrin's in Indiana when I had to go to the ER. I was sitting up on the ER bed, waiting for the doctor's assessment after my breathing had stabilized. In that comforting atmosphere, my dad quipped, "Have you ever considered pursuing a career as a respiratory therapist? With your lifelong experience dealing with asthma, I believe you could genuinely connect with your future patients."

Dad often shared his advice on various occasions, usually as a brief remark, as mentioned before. Rarely did he elaborate further. On one occasion, perhaps in our backyard when it was just the two of us, he added, "You have the freedom to choose your path, but if I were in your shoes, I'd seriously contemplate becoming a respiratory therapist. It truly seems like the perfect fit for you."

And I heeded dad's advice. I was actually kind of excited about the prospects of being a respiratory therapist and 

Honestly, I found it intriguing when my dad broached this topic. There was a part of me that felt a bit frustrated because he didn't delve deeper into the conversation or take it to a more profound level. However, that was simply how my dad was; he spoke his piece and left it at that. As a teenager, I often didn't know how to respond. I might have remained silent, leading to an awkward pause, or perhaps I simply replied with a brief, "Okay." 

Dad's words of wisdom continued to resonate in the recesses of my mind. Then, during my Junior year, an exciting opportunity presented itself at West Shore Community College: a career day featuring a discussion on respiratory therapy. My anticipation grew as I learned about this event, and I couldn't wait to attend.

The event took place in a spacious room at the college, large enough that one of the stations was stationed next to an ambulance. Looking back, I suspect the ambulance was part of the paramedic career presentation, but at the time, I mistakenly thought it was related to respiratory therapy. The respiratory therapy table was conveniently placed right next to the ambulance, which is where I eagerly listened to what the RT had to say about the profession.

In my typically shy manner, instead of asking probing questions to gain a deeper understanding of the field, I blurted out, "Do you have to take chemistry to become an RT?" The RT kindly responded that indeed, I would need to pass at least one chemistry class. This response sent a wave of concern through me because, at that moment, I was struggling in my chemistry class.

Although I was genuinely interested in pursuing a career as an RT, my fear of that challenging chemistry course ultimately influenced my decision not to choose this path when I was eventually accepted to Ferris State University. So, as it got closer and closer to that time I would have to decide, I started leaning towards being a teacher. I loved kids. I loved the idea of helping children learn. And so I thought it would be neat to be a teacher. 

Still lacking confidence in whether this would be the right career path for me, I resolved to seek advice from a couple of the teachers I held in high regard. However, approaching teachers, even those I admired, proved to be a daunting challenge for me. Initiating conversations and approaching people did not come naturally to me.

One day, at a baseball game where I was watching my younger brother, I noticed Mr. Anderson standing near the fence. Summoning my courage, I positioned myself next to him and, in my usual soft-spoken voice, asked him if teaching might be a suitable career choice for me. Mr. Anderson was known for his laid-back and easy-going demeanor, which is precisely why I chose to approach him. He exuded optimism, and I assumed he would have positive insights to share about the teaching profession.

To my disappointment, Mr. Anderson did not paint a rosy picture of teaching. He remarked, "It might not be the best profession for you. The financial rewards are rather limited." 

Nonetheless, I remained determined to seek advice from the other teacher I had in mind. Regrettably, I can't recall his name, but I do remember that he was an English teacher who, like Mr. Anderson, had a friendly and approachable demeanor. I assumed he would be an easy person to talk to. However, due to my social anxiety, I still struggled to muster the courage to approach him.

Finally, one day, he initiated a conversation with me on a different topic, and I seized the opportunity to ask, "Do you think teaching would be a suitable career for me?" To my disappointment, his response echoed Mr. Anderson's discouragement: "There's not much financial reward in teaching. It can be quite a disheartening profession."

Indeed, it was a frustrating turn of events. I had discovered a career path I genuinely desired, yet my confidence wavered, and the two individuals I had hoped would boost my spirits let me down.

Consequently, when I sat down a week later to fill out the forms sent to me by the administrators at Ferris, I didn't select teaching as my first choice; instead, I reserved it for my second option. Surprisingly, I opted for journalism as my primary choice. The decision was somewhat spontaneous, influenced by the fact that I was taking a journalism class at the time. Although I had a passion for writing, I mostly envisioned writing as a side pursuit rather than a full-fledged career path. 

As a result, I didn't immediately pursue respiratory therapy after high school. Instead, I embarked on a two-year journey to explore the world of journalism.