Sunday, April 9, 2017

Homework

In my therapy each week, I'm sent home with homework. The last 2 weeks have been tough....having to start changing the way I think and process and view myself(!) is no small task. Yet I'm determined to do the work and grow and change and be the best version of myself. This week, my homework is to write something, anything, everyday. As someone who longs to BE a writer and write wonderful,  witty, inspirational, encouraging, words (dare I say the word books).....who loves to share my experiences to help myself clear my head AND hopefully let anyone having similar issues know they are not alone....you'd think this would be an easy assignment. Given that she gave me a topic, it is....but it isn't.

I've written everyday but the first day. I published one blog already this week. It was slightly controversial, I suppose, but the kicker with anxiety is the over-thinking. Did I upset anyone? Was I clear in my thoughts? Does anyone think less of me? Am I now thought of in a way I don't want to be? Am I a heretic? Did I show love? Is my crazy showing?


This morning, I busted out my red journal that  my daughter has taken over with her doodles, and wrote the following about what anxiety is, for me:

Anxiety is being aware of every. Single. One. Of your flaws
Anxiety is being ashamed of your gifts and talents for fear you may come across too strong/with an ego
Anxiety is being afraid to fail and afraid to succeed
Anxiety is both your straight jacket and your security blanket
Anxiety is thinking you can do everything and unable to do anything
Anxiety is wanting to control the things you cannot
Anxiety means everything is death
Anxiety fuels an actual diagnosis by confirming fears and beginning new ones
Anxiety is how I've decorated my house and I want to burn it down
I'm not free. I'm not at peace. I may have happiness but I have no joy. It is both the chain on my ankle and my crutch. It lingers behind every smile, every bedtime, every trip....waiting to steal any glimpse of peace of mind. It's a pot that always boils.

Anxiety is crippling. It makes me question every relationship. It forces me to replay every conversation and worry that I said the wrong thing. I focus too much on what others think of me and if they like me rather than just living my life on my terms and as a woman of faith. As a Christian with anxiety, it only fuels the feelings of inadequacy. Statements like, "just give it to God" sound so nice, but it's harder than that. And while I know those statements are made in love and a desire to be encouraging, they sting like a whip. I can't just give it to God. I can't shake it. Random visual--You know when you get attacked by the sand bug things in super Mario brothers 3 and you have to jump a bunch to get them off of you? There's me. Trying to jump away the anxiety that's  stuck to me. It's like a chicken nugget from McDonald's....they don't really taste that good, but they do in their way and it's nearly its own kind of comfort food...familiar and consistent. And then you realize they're nothing but pink sludge. Anxiety is pink sludge. #themoreyouknow

For as long as I can remember, I have known fear. I have memories as far back as 2 years old. I remember turning 3. I used to walk down my hallway, as a child, with my hand on my back because I always felt like something was behind me. When Chris and I were first married, I had our apartment blessed because at 26 years old, I still felt like I was being followed. That feeling stopped, but the fear remains. The fear of death, of my children dying, my husband dying, my parents dying...I fear an accident that could leave my children motherless and Chris a widower. Then I worry about him getting remarried to someone who can do my job better than me, that he could love more....my children would only know her as their mother. Y'all.....

These are REAL fears for me, even though my current reality is nothing close to that. Anxiety does not care about real. It focuses on possibilities. It focuses on the what ifs. It reminds you, constantly, that you're not special or immune and highlights all of your insecurities. Anxiety is a thief....it steals peace, kills joy, and plants doubt. It makes me question the God I'm trying so hard to know. Is He good? Is He loving? If it's all for His will, who is to say His will isn't my tragedy? Anxiety makes you FEEL all the fear, doubt, worry. It feels like exhaustion because it is exhausting. The reality, though, the real question is--does the way anxiety makes me feel equal truth?

Lord, I hope not....


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