This next week marks the 2 year anniversary that started me on this journey of anxiety, struggle, peace, and trusting God and seeing Him in a new light, like nothing I have experienced before. It is as though I have experienced more pain, and more joy than I ever have in my entire life.
Maybe that is the point.
Recently, I found a notebook of my "auto-biography" that I wrote in 8th grade. Since I've been at counseling, I've learned how a lot of past experiences have shaped who I am today, or at least how I respond to crisis. The focus is not to blame parents, friends, relatives, past experiences, etc.... or somehow shift the blame off of myself. I can and do take full responsibility for as much as possible (obviously certain circumstances are out of my control, but my response is within my control). The point is to look back in my past and see how certain things have shaped me. I used to never think that our past could define us, at least not if we didn't let it. But that is just simply not true. To say that we are not effected by our past experiences is to diminish who we are and the world around us! We are in a fallen world, of course we are going to feel the effects of it!
Anyways, back to my auto-biography. For the assignment I was asked to describe both good and bad memories. I was surprised at how honest I was in the paper. My best memories included times spent with friends, etc... but when it came to my worst memories, I had all but forgotten about it until I read it. And all the pain and sadness flooded back. I felt my cheeks get hot as I read it.
It was a memory from 6th grade. I was 12 years old. It was a time in my life when I did feel more anxious than other times. I had just come off of a year (5th grade) where 2 friends (my age) died suddenly, and a principle/teacher I was close to (I illustrated a book for her that she wrote about children's cancer) also passed away. Anyways, maybe it was the effect of that that caused me to get a few panic attacks. Either way, it may not even have a cause but it was a year that I felt more anxious than normal. Throughout the course of the year, there were 3 instances where I called my mom to pick me up and take me home because I wasn't feeling good (panicky). I had a teacher that year who was inappropriate on so many levels (she had her husband come in and talk while we were going through FLASH - the notoriously awkward sex ed that everyone has to go through). She also had favorites, and unfortunately I was not one of them. She would tease students in front of the class (I say this not because I necessarily got the worst of it, but I saw her do it to several other students). At the end of the year we had a party where our parents/families were invited - there was dessert, hang out, games, and we got awards presented to us at the end.
Here is where my worst memory took place. Most kids in the class received accolades like "Most likely to succeed", "Most athletic", etc... it was my understanding that this was an encouraging event. Anyways, it got to my turn and my teacher decided to do something different. She invited Shelby (a boy, maybe he was bitter because he had a girl name, who knows) up to present it to me. He had harassed me several times throughout the year, was suspended at one point, and was a frequent flier to the principle's office. My teacher was fully aware of this. So he came up to the front of 100+ people including my classmates and their families and other teachers.
He presented the award to me.
The award was "I want to call my mommy award!"
It took all of me not to burst into tears as everyone else laughed.
I made myself walk up and take it, and run away. My ears turned bright red. My face was hot. My eyes were holding back the floodgates.
Didn't my teacher know that I was only 12 years old? That I only called my mother 3 times that year to take me home? Didn't she know that it was because I felt as though I would have a panic attack? Didn't she know I was vulnerable and fragile?
Whether she did or not, it doesn't matter. The Lord did, I just didn't know it yet.
There are a few things that are important about this. First of all, I feel the love of the Lord surround me as I remember that day. Just a few weeks ago we were talking about this specific incidence in counseling, although without the details. We just talked about how there was a certain stress I felt in 6th grade but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. All I knew is that it involved being humiliated by my teacher.
Here is where I take responsibility, and here is where a fallen person- child - tried to deal with a hurtful situation:
-I hated her, but I was mostly hurt.
-I decided that I could not be vulnerable (i.e. share struggles with others) because I wouldn't be considered "normal" and I would be humiliated.
-I decided that I had to keep stress to myself.
-I decided that I needed to explain myself/defend myself when no explanation was needed.
This event planted seeds of lies straight from the pit of hell that lingered in the back of my mind for years, to this day. When I came to meet Jesus a few years later, I did love Him. But I was so weak/naive in my faith that I just assumed everything would be okay from here on out. I sort of pushed these lies farther into the back of my mind without actually bringing them to the light and exposing them for the lies that they are.
Until Fall/Winter 2008.
I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst panic attack of my life. My body was not in my control, my heart was racing and I was short of breath and I couldn't calm myself down. I was in the dorms at Central and I felt out of control. I couldn't wake my roommate up because I didn't know how she would respond (what a lie! she had anxiety problems and took medicine for it!), and I barely made myself call Tim to pray for me. So I am in the struggle of my life and I'm trying to be quite so as not to wake my sleeping roommate! Because I chose to believe that no one could see me at my weakest.
I went months living in misery and not seeking help because I figured that I could beat anxiety by myself, that I didn't need others. I didn't know if it would help anyways. I was always the strong one, I had put the pressure on myself to carry the world on my shoulders.
But it was subtle.
Sin has a way of sneaking into our lives without us noticing, until there is nothing we can do about it (on our own, but NOTHING is impossible with God).
I don't claim to know exactly why I started struggling with anxiety other than it should not have taken me off guard because we live in a world that is fallen. Disease, illness, bad things plague all of us. How naive of me to think that I was immune to this! It is true that in Christ, I am no longer a slave to sin, that I am freed up to love Him and no longer submit to sin. That is absolute truth! But that doesn't change the fact that the effects of sin are very much real and very much all around us. Both the wicked and righteous can and will suffer, or can and will succeed, the Bible says.
The fact of the matter is that we chose sin and we are experiencing the consequences. That is not to say that any hurt, pain, struggle I face is a direct result of my sin (i.e. God punishing me). Jesus took my punishment on the cross so my sin has already been paid for. But we all chose sin, Jesus is the one who chose us, and that is more powerful than any effects that we deal with.
