Angry. Perplexed. Frustrated.



I'm angry. I'm perplexed. I'm frustrated.

I have anxiety and depression, and I want it to go away.

I thought that if I was a good Christian girl...if I did everything right...If I controlled all of my surroundings, that I wouldn't be dealing with problems like this.

I sat in my Counselor's office this week and got mad.  It occurred to me that I had no choice in this matter. I'm here because something didn't work right in my brain.

If it was something external, then I could change it by changing those external circumstances.

But, I didn't choose this.

One day I woke up like all the days before, got dressed, ate breakfast, buckled my baby in her car seat, and headed toward a panic attack I didn't see coming.

It came with no warning. It hit me with a force unlike anything I had every felt.  It didn't ask my permission.

As my life spiraled out of control, I found myself grasping to hold onto anything that would make it okay.  I came up with excuses for my problems.  I bargained with myself.  I bargained with God.  Surely this would pass, much like indigestion after too much pizza.

And yet, it stayed.  It came in and made itself comfortable in my home, my head, and most distressingly, my heart.

I asked it to leave so many times.  I begged God to remove it from my life.  I tried to use every ounce of strength I had to remove it on my own.

And the panic just wouldn't leave.

It told me I wasn't good enough.  That I needed to worry about everything.

It lied to me and said I couldn't handle things on my own... that I needed my husband to make everything work correctly.

It left me speechless, breathless, and hopeless.


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Truthfully...I want to be her again.


















I want to be the twenty-one year old, un-medicated, change-the-world girl who had all the optimism in the universe at her disposal.



And yet, I also want to be her.


















The thirty-three year old woman who has a softer, more understanding side.  The one who lives her life for others more than herself because she knows how empty the latter is.  The one who has been brave and strong in the moments when it counted.  The one who didn't give up, even when every neuron in her brain was screaming at her to run away and hide.

And, I'm angry...a little at myself, and a lot at God.  I'm angry that I can't seem to be both.  I'm frustrated that I live in a medicated state, and yet still have issues that seemingly preclude me from changing the world.

I want freedom.

I want to look at the sky and know that it holds no limit.

I want to breathe in life-giving air, while simultaneously exhaling grace to those around me.

And I want to live with purpose and intention...with no thought to what might happen if I wander too far out of my comfort zone.

Surrender can't come as long as I am clinching my fists in anger and frustration.

This problem angers me because I can't "make" this go away.  I can't yell at it long enough and make it walk out of the room.  My stomach churns at the realization that I am utterly and completely out of control.


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Jesus, be near to me.
Walk with me, as you already have shown yourself able to do.
Lead me into the path that YOU have for me, not the path I'm trying to forge on my own.
Give me peace that passes even my understanding.  Rescue me from my worry. Deliver me from my fear. Protect me from my pursuit of perfectionism.
You've got me.
I know that in my head.
Please whisper this truth to my heart.


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