I didn’t always
struggle with anxiety. I dislike that word. Struggle. So lets just uhh.. cross it out.
Who doesn’t worry about something in their lives. Maybe there was a turning point where you loose your grounding and faith in yourself and the, even after finding something to believe in and believing in yourself again, you just can’t shake that feeling of doom and gloom that terrifies you when it creeps up on you out of no where.
It shouts in your face with putrid breath while gripping your heart in your chest: You can’t succeed. You won’t succeed. You aren’t worth succeeding.
And sometimes the voices and their foulness leave you so shaken that you just can’t function. You vomit in your mouth. You experience ‘nervous tummy’ as I like to call it and all you want to do is run away and hide in the deepest darkest corner that you can find.
Now that, my friends, is a panic attack. We had some not happy things happen last week that left my stuck in that place of darkness and panic.
Yay for anxiety. It’s still here. I’m still … trying. It’s hard to face the things that leave you shaking inside, even if they’re in your ancient past. There are days when your ancient past comes crashing down and you feel like you’re trapped in it again, even though you are as far from it as you possibly can.
In the long run, it takes a lot to inventory your life and all of your experiences to find the root cause of something so controlling as anxiety.
During a step study group through Celebrate recovery, where I was facing my past, the losses, and the pains that followed domestic violence, I had the opportunity to do just that in a safe, confidential environment.
Unfortunately for me, the root cause of my anxiety primed me for events that I would face in adulthood and at one point even leave me running for my life.
what follows is the first part in a series on Revival Girl’s Anxiety Story. In a lot of ways it isn’t for you.
It’s for me.
It’s part of my healing process and maybe through sharing it may help others face similar problems like this one in their own lives.
I preface this series of posts with these words:
It doesn’t matter if you are the target or the cause. in the end, it hurts you.
And if after sharing, those that were involved actually stumble on this posting, know now that you were forgiven long ago. The after effects of what occurred in my life are my burden to bare, me, my amazing husband who brings the Priesthood into my family, and my faith to survive.