taking the long way home.

Sometimes, there are things in life you don't necessarily enjoy or want to do, but you know they are good for you.  Running, limiting sweets, drinking V-8. Things that sort of hurt in the process, but the benefits often outweigh the price, or no one would ever even consider them.

Today, for me, it's writing.  Or, more specifically, writing about the anxiety that I've been dealing with for at least the better part of the past year.

I've prided myself on being the normal one in my family (forgive me of my self-righteousness).  I've thanked the Lord that I've not had to deal with the enslaught of issues that have plagued those on the branches of my family tree. And, when things got hard, I knew the One to turn to.

Today, I stepped outside to head to the grocery when it brushed past me, it's touch lingering and recalling memories that for no apparent reason brought about a haunting nostalgia.  The first crisp air of fall, a season we all long for as a reprieve from often unbearable, scorching summer heat that leaves us desparate for a change.

But for me, for some reason, that breeze wasn't the promise of a fresh season.  It was the poignant reminder of a painful past.  They say scent is the number one trigger of memories; I would argue that it's the first cool snap of fall.  I don't know why it triggers so much anxiety (aside from fall being a gateway to winter cold and awful clothes and seasonal depression), but each time I felt the simultaneous warm sun on my skin and brisk breeze pass me by, it was a lurking reminder of the difficulties to come, again, in the new season.

I try to separate what I feel and what I know to be true. I had to begin this process at the end of last summer, and I honestly never expected to still be dealing with this.  Where every decision is an opportunity to make the wrong, game-ending choice, and the fear of having to deal with anxiety is often worse than the anxiety itself.  You fear talking about it because you fear being seen differently because of it.  And you fear being seen differently because you fear that no one could truly want to try to understand it, deal with it, or even put the effort into loving you because of it.

I know these things to not *be* true, but the problem with anxiety is that it warps your emotions to manipulate your truths into doubts.  And the sinking feeling you get about sharing your emotions and truths and fears, and actually being right about them, prevents you from dealing with the anxiety the way we are called to deal with anything: in the light.

Today, I'm refusing to call lights-out at bedtime.  I'm taking a stand because I know I am strong enough to be transparent, even if our most common misconception of transparent items is that they are extremely fragile.  And tomorrow, I will turn and fight the lies again, as much as I have to, with as much strength I can muster. I'm thankful that even in the hard things, even when the anxiety makes it harder, I can still turn to the Lord and trust that He is bigger, stronger, and more powerful than I feel or realize.

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I didn't realize this at time of posting, but I'm not the only one wrapped in the shroud of anxiety today. Nor am I the only one taking courage and fighting. Read below.