This post talks about some heavy, negative emotions I deal with, so at the end I've added a video of a song that lifts all the heaviness. Watch it. It's worth the couple minutes it takes up.
I have to say that the most terrifying thing I withstand is
anxiety. The source of anxiety for every person is different. For me,
it's a physical imbalance. I was diagnosed 4 years ago with PMDD (premenstrual
dysphoric disorder). Essentially, PMS x 1,000,000. It causes such an
extreme fluctuation in my hormones that I become either petrifyingly depressed
or hysterically anxious. Fortunately for me, there is medication that offers
relief and keeps my hormones balanced when my body can't regulate on its own. Some are ashamed of needing medication, but I’m
not. I believe God gave the doctors
knowledge to help us. It doesn’t mean I
am not putting my trust in Him when I turn to doctors. I’m just not stubborn, and I want to live my
life to the fullest and be productive and happy… not live in sadness and fear.
There are times, though, that the
medication just isn't sufficient.
A few nights ago I was feeling particularly
on edge. There was tension at work that I just couldn't seem to shake.
Knowing I was already anxious, I came home, drew a hot bubble bath, turned on
my favorite meditation app, and for 45 minutes did nothing but relax. I focused on my breath, connecting each
intake with the movements of my body, relaxing my jaw, putting zero effort into
what my body needed. I actively forced
the tension out of myself.
Feeling sleepy, I nestled into my favorite robe and initiated my
evening skincare routine (which usually takes about 20 minutes) when all of a
sudden, I felt like a train full of hot water crashed into my chest. A
warm feeling saturated my heart and chest, I was dizzy, my hands went numb and
I couldn't breathe. I ran downstairs to find Tom and told him I was
having an anxiety attack. I burst into tears and sat on the steps sobbing
for 10 minutes.
I’m going to interject here into my own
story and tell you what I feel when anxiety hits me. I stand, overwhelmed by a feeling of
loneliness and fear, blackness covers me, it’s so heavy. I can feel it on my
chest, pressing the life out of my lungs and crushing my heart. I have to go somewhere, anywhere, to get away
from it, but it’s everywhere. So I cry.
I don’t know why I cry, but it’s hysterical, uncontrollable. I feel like if I say I don’t know what to do
that someone will give me an answer, so I say it over and over between
sobs. I’m always afraid that it won’t
pass and I’ll be hysterical/crazy forever and have to be committed. I feel abandoned by God.
Then I know it’s something I can beat, because
I know that feeling of abandonment goes against everything I know to be
true.
I made my way to the bedroom, frantic.
I couldn't sit still, I couldn't stop crying, I kept saying "I'm so
scared, I don't know what to do!" I felt like I had cracked and I
would never be fixed again. I could see the fear and panic in Tom's eyes
which made me more frenzied. Finally, Tom suggested reading the Bible to
me. I immediately said yes and laid down with my head on his lap, still
sobbing, as he began to read. I don't know where he was reading from,
although, I could find it if I looked it up. I remember the story of the
woman with the issue of blood, and the story of the old man beside the Pool of
Bethesda.
Then the next thing I knew... it was morning. Tom told me he read until I snored (which I never do, but it was most likely from crying and being swollen... just had to clarify! ;)
That day I read a devotional from Joyce Meyer... and coincidentally, it was about the old man beside the Pool of Bethesda.
"Okay, God. I'm listening." Obviously, someone was trying to tell me something.
I haven't let go of my maladies.
I've been holding onto them... for absolutely no justifiable reason. I've
been letting the fear of my sicknesses control me, dictate my every day,
consume my spirit.
It's time for me to stop making excuses.
It's time for me to let go. Maybe they'll hang onto me for a little
longer, but that bond will eventually fail and there will be nothing connecting
these things to me. My ailments do not define me. They are not who I am.
Who I am is a child of God. Perfect.
Whole. Favored.
I am incessantly grateful that my God loves me so
relentlessly. I'm a part of this deficient world, but He's offered me absolution from all the garbage that comes along with it. All I have to do is ask... and then praise Him. Something I do so eagerly. What a small sacrifice to make for everything He does for me...
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