So there I was, preparing to teach a South African family about the Gospel of Jesus Christ when my hands began to shake. My mind was racing, and when I spoke, my words stumbled out of my mouth. The missionary I was with gave me an alarmed glance before taking over the teaching. We walked out of the house quietly, unsure of what was happening. It was a frightening experience.

I didn’t know what was going on. I was plagued with insomnia. I couldn’t sleep but a few minutes each night. I constantly worried. As missionaries, you are supposed to be talking to people each and every day, but we were in a tough area. Many were not interested in what we had to say, meaning that we had a lot of time on our hands — time for me to worry and feel guilty about not doing better. Thoughts swirled around and began to drown me. I was a wreck. Soon thereafter, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD).

I didn’t think I had an issue until that point. In hindsight, however, there were definite signs of my disorder creeping up. For instance, there were days when my mind would race and I couldn’t sleep, and there were some days when I experienced intense and sudden panic attacks. I remember one panic attack when I was so worried about a girl that I began to hyperventilate and experience intense sensations of paranoia and fear. I didn’t know what was going on.

In other words, suffering from anxiety is a terrifying experience. I always knew in those instances that if I could get to sleep, I would wake up feeling better. But for those who suffer from anxiety, getting a good night’s sleep is much easier said than done.

I was eventually put on medication as my GAD worsened. The doctor took a quick look at my medical history and determined that I was probably deficient in serotonin. He put me on Paxil and Xanax. Paxil, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), was to be taken daily. It essentially keeps serotonin in the brain’s synapses for longer than normal. Xanax, a benzodiazepine, was meant to be taken as needed due to its addictive qualities. It works by depressing the central nervous system, which in turn can help you calm down during an anxiety attack. However, it is easy to form a dependency when it is taken regularly.

The medication certainly did help. I was sleeping more and the anxiety was abated, but not without nasty side effects. I felt dead emotionally; almost as if my emotions were stunted. I hated how it felt. I didn’t want to be on the drugs for life, but they helped for the time being. I was still able to enjoy many great days as a missionary. In fact, some of the best moments of my missionary career happened after I began taking my medications.

I vividly recall speaking at a missionary meeting. Sometimes, you are asked to speak about a certain topic or testify about what you know to be true. Drawing from my own personal experience, I jokingly quoted a scripture that said to be “anxiously engaged.” The missionary who was with me shook his head in laughter. I was definitely anxiously engaged.

I was supposed to be in South Africa for approximately six more months after my initial diagnosis. I thought maybe once I got home I would be able to taper off of the meds, and I did. I slowly tapered, as the doctor instructed me. I was able to find good coping mechanisms that I didn’t have as a missionary halfway around the world, including movies and video games. Of course, while these may not have been the best coping mechanisms in hindsight, they worked. Soon enough, I rarely experienced anxious episodes — even when I went through some horrific personal struggles in the following years. That didn’t mean that my anxiety had vanished, however.

Fast forward a few years. I am now sitting in a functional medicine seminar listening to the lecturer talk about low neurotransmitter symptoms. He detailed out serotonin and dopamine, among other important chemicals. A light bulb suddenly turned on. I had thought that my anxiety was caused by a serotonin deficiency, when it was really caused by low dopamine.