I knew my depression was going to return. In the early spring, I told friends it was going to come back at some point in 2019. It’s triggered by major changes, and in the space of 6 months I had a baby, quit my job, we (my husband and kids and I) moved twice, bought a house and I transitioned to being a stay at home mom in a new city. A complete stranger would have been able to tell me that the depression was going to return.
What I wasn’t expecting was the anxiety. The anxiety hit first. One day in July, a thought came into my head from left field, and my brain became a broken record player. My thought process went something like this. What if I stole something from the store? What?!?! Where in the world did that come from? I’m not going to steal anything. Well how did that thought come into my head? Why did it come into my head? This is ridiculous - why am I still thinking about this? Let me think about something else. What if someone found out that I thought ‘what if I stole something?’? What kind of parent wonders what if they steal something? If I ever did steal something I would go to jail and lose my family. I don’t want to lose my family! HOLLY- you’re not going to steal anything. You’re not going to jail. It’s not like I was sitting there planning a theft, this came out of nowhere! But what if another crazy thought comes in? That day the thought wasn’t actually whether I might steal, but that is exactly what my internal conversation looked like every day, all day this summer and fall. I was bombarded by thoughts on mistakes that I could make in the future. Thoughts on mistakes I had already made in the past. Thoughts on how my family would be so disappointed and hurt. Never ending thoughts. I would literally at times go into my room while my kids were occupied with something and scream out “AH! Holly stop it!” After a few days of this, I realized that I was dealing with anxiety instead of depression so I went to the doctor and she started me on an anti-depressant that also helps with anxiety. I knew that this fight with anxiety was medical and spiritual. In other words, it’s brutal. As I mentioned previously, there is no escape from anxiety. It comes crashing in any time it pleases. To this day, if a thought or comment triggers a past mistake or conversation I’m ashamed of, it’s not uncommon for me to get flushed, sense heat rush through my body, and feel my stomach start to cramp. I’m terrified to think. I have started having “back-up topics” to focus my brain on if I catch myself starting to day dream. If I think of something that has the slightest connection to a topic that has previously caused me anxiety, I start to frantically tell myself to think about something else for fear that my brain will start the dark spiral of anxiety. Throughout these months, the anxiety has driven me to God. Not in a magnificent or holy way. But in a desperate, maybe even selfish way. I knew there was nothing else that could provide reprieve. In the past, there have been seasons when I felt like I’ve needed clear direction and guidance from the Lord, but I’ve been met with silence. Maybe you’ve been there too? But through this struggle, I learned God knows when we must hear from Him. He knows when His silence will be the best teacher and when His voice is necessary for our perseverance. God came near to me this year. Maybe the nearest He has ever been. Yet, even though I saw God meet me every day and I grew so much closer to Him, I still fought anxiety. Every time Aaron asked how I was doing, I hated that I had to tell him that it was still awful. I hated that I wasn’t past it. That for a significant amount of time each day, I wasn’t laughing with the kids, I was fighting a vicious cycle of lies in my head. I remember one specific conversation with Aaron. I had a great quiet time that day but then an awful evening. My voice cracked as I told him, “I just don’t understand why God won’t take this from me. I don’t understand why He won’t heal me. I know He can. I hate it. I hate it so much. I wouldn’t wish for anyone to have to fight this battle.” When I came across this quote by Charles Spurgeon, I couldn’t believe how perfectly it described me. He said this: There comes a time in most of our lives in which we no longer have the strength to lift ourselves out or to pretend ourselves strong. Sometimes our minds want to break because life stomped on us and God didn’t stop it. In my story, anxiety was stomping on me and God wasn’t stopping it. Although I have come to accept He isn’t taking it from me, I didn’t understand why. One day in October, I was reading passages in Isaiah, and a commentator’s note in my Bible said this, “To “put on” the armor {the armor of God that is written about in Ephesians 6} is to put on the Messiah himself.” (Note on Isaiah 11:5) After I read that, it’s as if God whispered to the deepest part of my soul that was so beaten down, defeated, and weary, if Satan can’t say it to Me, he doesn’t get to say it to you. Not only am I your armor, I’m your righteousness. I cling to this mantra so tightly. Sometimes, I have to say it 10 times in a row before I can move on with a different thought. Sometimes I only have to say it once. But every time I say it, I believe it a little more. Since this summer, our daughter Eliza, has been loving “horsey rides.” She climbs on her dad’s back and he runs her around the living room while she squeals from her perch. When I’m looking straight at them, I typically just see her tiny hands hanging onto her dad’s shoulders. Every other part of Eliza is hidden behind her dad. In a very similar way, that’s what I envision with putting on the armor. I’m simply climbing on the back of Christ and holding on to Him as He fights the enemy. Christ is my armor. He is my righteousness. Satan has go through Christ before he gets to me. I don’t know how long the fight will last. But He will be victorious. I just have to keep hanging on. The same is true for you. Climb onto Christ’s back. Let Him fight for you.
1 Comment
It’s obviously been a really long time since I’ve written anything. For many of you who know me personally, you know it’s been a year and one-half of transitions and roller coasters. Some of which I’ll be unpacking here in the upcoming weeks, but for those of you who are taking the time to read this, thank you. Thank you for being willing to jump back into this world of written thoughts and unpacking life events with me.
2019, although it has brought some incredible blessings to us like our son, Isaiah, and Aaron’s new job, has not been an easy year for the Brown family… in all transparency, we have both stated it’s been the hardest year of our marriage. Lately I’ve been convicted that I most connect with stories of realness, and I find a deep sense of relief and encouragement when reading about someone’s journey that mirrors my own. However, I haven’t yet shared my own struggles of this year that might be a source of relief for another woman walking through this same season. If you are entering this Christmas season feeling like this year has taken more out of you than you ever could have imagined, take heart. You’re not alone. “Lord, something has to give.” I’ve prayed that line many, many times since this summer, literally begging God for a reprieve from the anxiety and depression that descended on me in July. An illness that my medication helps but doesn’t purge. This isn’t my first experience with depression and anxiety, but this past July the mental battle hit the hardest it ever has. To be honest, I’m still trying to wade through the depression side of it. God hasn’t healed me the way I begged him to. Depression and anxiety doesn’t always look like the commonly known symptoms. My depression doesn’t involve deep sadness and tears. My anxiety doesn’t induce panic attacks. In my life, depression is small things feeling overwhelming. I heard of friend of mine say “It’s all I can do to get myself ready to go, much less anyone else.” That resonated with me. Normal tasks can feel like impossible battles because of the energy required to complete them. Some days, it’s as small as finding out my husband is stuck in traffic and will be 30 minutes later than expected. The thought of being on “kid duty” alone for an extra 30 minutes feels like an impossible amount of expectation, weight, and energy on my shoulders. More than once, the television has been my go-to because my brain couldn’t compute enough to find an activity for them and my body couldn’t make myself sit on the floor and referee the play time. Then there’s my struggle with anxiety. For me, anxiety is a mental ambush happening again, and again, and again. It’s a self-condemning of my past and my possible mistake-filled future. It’s fear that the anxiety will never stop. It’s replaying the highlight reel of my worst moments and my shameful thoughts. Quite simply it results in being terrified to think. There’s no “safe place,” no “place of refuge” because the battle is all in my mind. I never know when a thought or fear will pop in and send me spiraling. No spa day or self-care day fixes this. Charles Spurgeon, a renown pastor in the 1800’s said it this way: The mind can descend far lower than the body, for in it there are bottomless pits. The flesh can bear only a certain number of wounds and no more, but the soul can bleed in ten thousand ways, and die over and over again each hour. Tears came to my eyes the first (and second) time that I read that description. Finally, words to describe the mental toll that anxiety took. I remember reading that quote to my husband, fighting back tears, to help give him a glimpse of what my brain felt like on days that had been wracked with attacks of anxious thoughts. I can’t help but believe that I’m not alone in. Maybe you’re feeling the same but have been hesitant to talk to a doctor? Maybe you’ve told yourself as I did for so long, that I just needed to catch up on rest, on my quiet times, on ________ to feel like your old self again. Maybe you know this struggle all too well. Maybe this season with lights, laughter and songs instead brings you thoughts of fear, failure, and shame. I get it. For the next few weeks, I’m going to share pieces of my journey in my battle of anxiety and depression in hopes that my story can bring you the same sense of relief and understanding that others’ stories have brought me. If you’re in the middle of the battle, take courage. God is with you even now. Even in the mess. The exhaustion. The shame. The frustration. I’ve come to have such an incredible love for God’s name Immanuel. Knowing that God is with me when I sit on my couch for longer than I should, knowing that God is with me when I can’t muster up the energy I need, knowing that God is with me when Satan recounts my worst thoughts and my most heart-breaking decisions, is something I have clung to this season. Hallelujah, God is with me, even in this. That doesn’t always change how I feel in the moment, but it is a truth that I rest my weary heart on. |
About Holly's BlogHolly loves to write, and you'll find her blog covers all different topics! Categories
All
Archives
July 2020
|