it was supposed to be a fun day with the beau. a two hour drive to the hills of Indiana. sunshine, and actually above freezing. a day outdoors after spending what has seemed like my entire time in Indianapolis holed-up inside avoiding the sub-arctic temps.
i tried not to notice it as the drive got long and winding. i tried to ignore its presence like a misspoken word, in hopes he wouldn't notice and it wouldn't build and i could just go about the day being active and learning how to ski and tearing up the slopes. but it stuck with me unnoticed, like dirtied, discarded gum on the bottom of my rain boots.
covered head-to-toe in heat-wielding accessories, with skis tightly secured to my rented boots, i hit the slopes. I still had it. I had been skiing only once before, at this very place, only falling once and thorougly enjoying myself. certainly this would be the day i would graduate to the tougher runs and learn to cut in and out across the hills with the agility of a seasoned skiier.
and as i set forth down the first slope, panic overwhelmed my body. my chest felt hollow, as if no amount of breathing in would ever fill it with the oxygen needed to sustain life. fearfilled my veins, and tears filled my eyes. i wasn't close to falling, i wasn't unsteady on my feet. my hands were shaking and i burst into tears before I could even come to a stop with my pizza-shaped ski position.
Ryan encouraged me from behind as i slowed to a stop on the other side of the path. i couldn't go near him, i couldn't speak, i could hardly breathe. the thought that i had to complete the course before i could even make it back up again ignited absolute terror throughout my body. through the grace of God, I made it down (what to me was) the hill with the straight, deep, decline, and to the bottom by the ski lift. shaking and wiping away tears, i confessed what he already knew, that I had had a panic attack upon starting, and my body was overwhelmed right now. i couldn't control the tears or the terror and felt awful for something like this ruining our day while we were just getting started. he said he was more concerned with me being okay than him having fun, and I know he was sincere, but the thought of ruining his time just made me feel that much worse.
and every time i got to the top of the slope, no matter how many times i mastered it with ease, the cavity in my chest again became hollow, my hands never ceased to shake, and the terror never relented tormenting my mind. and after a nasty spill the only time i tried a new run, one that left me with a ski up my bum (and the bruise to prove it happened) and no comfortable way to sit, each run was a battle to not give up, to do it afraid. i was presented with the choice to make each time, to A) give into anxiety, and give up, just not even trying any more; or B) push past the anxiety, and do it in fear the whole time, stripping it of any fun that it could or should be?
it's this dilemma that drives me crazy. in either option, i have zero control over my anxiety, and it wins. as irrational as it can be, that is how it wins, every time. it just has to show up.
so today, i start a new journey with my anxiety, and i ask that you would pray for me as each step is a little scary and asks me to be a little more vulnerable. today i went to the doctor, and they prescribed an anti-depressant to help combat everything that has made me feel so unlike myself. we will see how this goes. right now, it's just for the next 6-9 months and we will reassess from there. so much of my pride wants to not talk about this; wants to pretend all is fine and dandy all the time, and that i don't need to rely on anything outside of myself to help control the panic. but that part of pride is a liar. that part of pride wants to save face, rather than be real. and although i can't control the anxiety, i can control my pride.
this post by jamie the very worst missionary spoke so much to me a year ago in this journey of discovering what i've been dealing with. it also reflects a lot of honest thoughts i have had about trying to defeat this with a jesus-only prescription.
the bruise and welts and cut on my bum remind me that its a hard journey, and it will be filled with accidents and pain and days that are just no-good. but, it also serves as a reminder that i did it. afraid, yes. but i still did it. i start out these new steps with the same thoughts, and one day i'll look back and be grateful that I did it.
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