Anxiety. I have trouble with this word, because I pronounce it "aing ziety" but that doesn't really make sense based on the letters. Should I be saying it differently? Like "ann ziety"? or "ainks iety"? Maybe that's it. Well crap. Either way, the English language is pretty dumb. Not gonna lie.
Annnnnngziiiiiiiiiiiietty. What is it all about? I'm not a doctor so I'm not getting into the clinical definition, cuz I will probably mess that up, but I will share my experiences with this awkward word.
The first time I felt anxiety (and knew that's what it was) was when Lydia was about 10 months old. I'd stopped nursing her and I think that caused hormones to do a crazy dance and explode on me. That's how it felt, anyway. So I felt kind of gross and weird one evening and just went to bed, hoping to sleep it off. Then I woke up around 4am and felt like I was going to throw up. So into the bathroom I went. I didn't throw up but I felt horrible. The more I woke up, the more I started to worry. What the heck was going on? My heart was pounding, I could barely catch my breath, and I felt nauseous. To tell the truth, I felt like I was dying. I wondered if I was having a heart attack or something. I really felt like something terrible was going to happen to me.
So I woke Tim up and told him I thought something bad was happening and I was scared. I described what I was feeling and my wonderful psychology major husband told me (from the bed, because he was unconcerned) that it sounded like I was having a panic attack. I'd never had anything like that happen to me before, and I really felt like there was a good chance I was going to die right there in my unfinished bathroom. It got a whole lot worse, and then, just like that, it was gone. Over. I felt normal again, and kind of embarrassed, because I freaked out there for apparently no reason.
That's the thing I've learned about panic attacks. Unfortunately, I've had a couple more since then. If you've never had one, I don't recommend starting. If you have, then you know what I mean. They suck, and you can't help it. At the time, even though it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, you feel like you are doomed, like you are dying. You try to convince yourself that you will be fine, that there's really nothing to be worried about, but there's this little tiny thought in the back of your head asking, "What if I'm wrong?" and it just spirals out of control from there. People have asked me, "Well, WHY were you so anxious? What were you panicking about?" but that's just it- there is no good answer, at least not for me. There's not been some specific thing I've consciously been worried about. I mean, one woke me up in the night for crying out loud! It was crazy.
I did go to the doctor after this initial middle of the night panic attack. It wasn't a doctor I've ever seen before, so I didn't feel super great about it. She prescribed a medication that I was really nervous about, and I never filled the prescription. I was worried about how it might affect my ability to take care of my kids. I figured the panic attack was just some sort of hormonal issue linked to my stopping nursing and I tried to just pay attention to how I was feeling and keep my family in the loop.
I continued to go to my support group and I continued to call my problem anger, because that's what it looked like to me. I continued to feel better and learn some techniques for dealing with what I was feeling, and I leaned on God more than ever to help me through it. I was amazed at how much better I felt just knowing that there was a group of people out there who loved me just the way I was, despite my brokenness, and who were also broken and working toward bettering themselves. I felt accountable to my friends in the group, yet loved unconditionally as well. The cool part about the group for me was that I got to know people first by learning about their struggles, and then by discovering all of the other beautiful parts of who they were. This is backwards from most other relationships I've had in my life. Usually, I've gotten to know people on the surface only to slowly uncover their quirks and "issues" (for lack of better word) but with these friends, I knew their struggles first and their triumphs and other characteristics next. It's been awesome, really. To love others despite their flaws and be loved and accepted despite mine.
That's part of the reason why I share this story with you and with others. Will you still love me despite my flaws? I'm at a point in my life where I am seeking deep, unconditional relationships. I want to understand my loved ones and for them to understand me. I am not afraid to share who I am because I know that I am loved by many just the way I am, most importantly, by Jesus. I want to spend my life, my time, my energy, building healthy relationships with those I care about and who care about me. I don't have time to pretend to be someone I'm not, or to act a certain way so others will like me. I don't want you to feel like you have to pretend to be a certain way for me to love you. I want the people that I love to feel like they can share who they are with me and be loved. I am trying to live my life to be pleasing to God.
"The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." 1 Samuel 16:76
Thank goodness for this. God looks at my heart, not at my money or the fact that I can't dress myself well, or the grime in my kitchen. He won't judge me because I don't have it all together on any given day. He knows me better than anyone else because he created me to be me. It's a relief, really. I don't want to spend time and energy trying to fit into society's mold of what I am supposed to be. Ain't nobody got time for that.
About a year after my first panic attack, I decided to make another appointment to see my doctor. I'd shared part of my story with a friend, and she told me that she'd had a similar experience and that medication had helped her immensely. It's funny. You'd think that when I first started noticing something was wrong, after Lydia was born, that I would have sought my doctor's advice. Actually, at that point in time, I didn't even think that I could have had any sort of chemical problem. I just kind of felt that I was failing at being a mom. Others made me feel like I should suck it up, have it all together...but I couldn't. I thought it was just because I wasn't good enough.
But after speaking with my friend, I considered for the first time that maybe, just maybe, there was another issue. So I went to see my doctor, and I told her all about how I'd been feeling and about my anger, my group, the whole nine yards. And as I started talking to her, I started to realize my problem wasn't anger. I heard myself telling her how overwhelmed I felt, even about the littlest, dumbest things. And she heard it too. She said, "I don't think you have an anger problem, I think you are experiencing anxiety." And it was like a light bulb came on. And I knew she was right. I wasn't an angry person. Despite the fact that I'd had issues with yelling and screaming, it wasn't because I was angry. It was because I was suffering from some crazy anxiety. I felt overwhelmed, sometimes more legit reasons and other times, not so much. But hearing the doctor legitimize what was happening to me was empowering. She said it could be a chemical thing from the birth of my daughter, it could be something else, but that there was medication to try to see if it would alleviate any of my issues.
I feel like my life has been given back to me. I feel like a new version of my "old self". The easygoing person I once was has returned, and I love it. I still lean on God a lot, and try not to compare myself to others, or listen when they try to tell me how I should be, or how they are or were, but I also know that there are some crazy chemicals in my brain that needed an attitude adjustment.
I marvel when I think- how long would I have struggled if I hadn't been willing to share my story? If I hadn't owned up that yes, I needed help, I wouldn't have found my group. If I hadn't found my group, I wouldn't have leaned on God. If I hadn't shared the truth about the group and my issues with my friend, I wouldn't have made an appointment with my doctor, and I wouldn't be feeling the relief and peace that I am now.
I'm not sure what the future holds for me, but I know that I am not afraid, because God is with me. I'm not afraid to share my story, because maybe, by sharing my story, I am changing someone's life for the better, just as my life has been changed by the stories of others. God has a plan for me, just as he has a plan for each of his children. Sometimes, we are shaped by the hard parts. Anxiety has been a hard part for me, but it has shaped me and changed me for the better. And that is something to celebrate, not something to hide.
I just want you to remember this: God does not look at us the same way we look at each other. He doesn't judge us by the cleanliness of our houses, by our mistakes, or by our shortcomings. When he looks at us, he sees his beautiful, broken children who need his love and his healing. He loves us just the way we are. Whatever issues we have that are too scary to share with others? He can take them all. He wants to take them all. Thank goodness.
