Having anxiety has often been something that carries a lot of shame with it. When I first experienced panic attacks and sleepless nights that left me feeling at the bottom, I was desperate for help. My doctor put me on antidepressants and I began to stabilize. But in the Christian world antidepressants are not looked upon fondly. We were headed overseas to do mission work, and I carried with me a mark of shame...something that was hard to speak about. I didn't tell many, but because I was desperate to be known and loved, I did let one of my leaders know. The response confirmed my fear...that to be on antidepressants showed I lacked faith. As I would meet with this woman I would feel the need to discuss whether I was still taking the medicine, and whether I was doing everything to get off...translation: Was I praying, reading the Psalms, praising God?... and so forth. She once said "just praise God!" Her response left me feeling like I was lacking faith, and not doing enough. Because to be a Christian means to not be anxious. To have anxiety means I am sinning...I am not trusting. I am not believing.
"Lord, help me in my unbelief..."
It was hard to be newly diagnosed with anxiety, and to have fallen to such a dark place that I would actually consider antidepressants. I had struggled with depression for several years prior to my anxiety diagnosis, but when a doctor suggested antidepressants and gave me a sample I immediately threw them away and decided to start running and do anything I could to avoid taking medication. I was NOT ok with taking antidepressants. They carried a strong stigma within me, and I refused to think they might help me. I was able to deal with the depression through running and other self-care practices, but when the panic attacks and insomnia hit in 2004, I hit such a low desperate place that I felt I had nothing to turn to but medicine. I was so desperate for help that I said yes to the very drugs I had turned my nose up at a few years prior.
And now we were missionaries on the field. I had a few friends who I was able to talk about it with, but very few. As a result, it felt like a shameful thing. If I had not had one friend in particular who had been so open with me about using medicine for her anxiety, I would have felt completely alone. I will always be thankful that there was one person in my life who shared her story with no hint of shame. She was just matter of fact "I need them. They help me." and this freed me to think that maybe it was ok for me, too.
But honestly I never stopped hoping that I would get off of medicine. That I would either be healed of anxiety, or that I would overcome it, or find ways to cope with it otherwise. And did I pray? YES. Because even with the meds, I still struggled. The meds helped me get my feet back under me, but they did not take away the internal struggle of "I have anxiety". The anxiety was less intense, and I was able to sleep...but my biggest struggle was my anxiety about having anxiety!!!
Fast forward to 13 years later. I have sat in probably ten different counselor offices over the last 13 years, I have had healing prayers prayed over me, I have talked to Christians who would lead me through prayers of forgiveness, I have cried out to God for healing, I have welcomed Jesus into my heart countless times, and at the end of the day...I still do not feel able or free to stop taking medication. In conclusion, I still have anxiety. But am I sinning? Do I lack faith? Am I missing something?
Anxiety has driven me closer to God than anything else in my life. I have found myself leaning on God for strength in a way that if I did not struggle I would not need to. Without anxiety I think I would feel "able" and self-sufficient. I would praise God because everything in my life is going just fine. But anxiety keeps me humble, and very near to God. Without God I could not get up out of bed after a sleepless night. Just a few days ago the thought entered my head "if I didn't have God I would surely be an alcoholic to numb all this pain." On my low days I can only call out to God, and to friends who hold me in loving prayer. Does this make me unbelieving? Does this mean I don't trust God enough?
As I sit with these questions...these very common questions in the Christian world, I am able to sense this is not how God views me. I believe as I look up to his face I am met with such deep love. His gaze towards me is love, not shame. It is not him who is saying "you lack faith". It is not him who says "just praise me more and you'll be healed". Because he knows how open and desperate my heart has turned towards him. He sees my suffering and knows that I have continued to look to him. He sees my heart.
I still long for healing. To be free of anxiety and insomnia. To never have another panic filled sleepless night. OH! That would be amazing. But as I sat with God this morning I could sense his delight in me. And how he is using my struggle with anxiety to form a strong woman who has a story to share. A story that says "you don't need to be ashamed of your struggle." He is inviting me towards freedom EVEN WITH anxiety. He is helping me see that healing from anxiety is not what equals freedom at the deep level. I can live my life with anxiety and be free! It is my scar, but it is not who I am. I am his beloved daughter. That is my story, my inheritance. There is nothing greater than to know we are fully loved even when we are fully known in our broken places. That is freedom!!!!
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