Allow me, friends, to be vulnerable with you so that we might come together in our mutual redemption and brokenness. Let me share my reality so that you might enter into it with me.
I will begin my confession here (and bear with me, it's a little lengthy):
It was a normal night at home. I was on the couch with my mom watching a movie. A colorful, graphic, horror-thriller Guillermo del Toro movie, to be exact. I had gone through most of the movie being just a little unnerved by a few of the scenes (if you don't know, I am terrible with blood. Just terrible.). Near the end of the movie, and I'm talking like less than ten minutes left, I felt my heart begin to pound. I consciously recognized this and decided to turn away and focus on my breathing for a moment. Little did I know then that only minutes later my mom would be yelling my name at me from above because I had not only passed out, but my body began to contort backward. I awoke hazy, ears ringing, confused. My mom immediately turned off the movie, which I was disappointed by because I wanted to see the end - clearly I was very into it - and gave me water to drink. I lay on the couch chuckling, apologizing to my mom for "scaring the crap out of her." I mean, just imagine you're in the height of a scary movie, laying in the dark, and you turn around to find your daughter looking like Emily Rose, exorcism mode, body contracting on the couch. Terrifying, to say the least.
This event happened a few months ago. I didn't think much on it after the fact, if only to relay the story to friends, who responded with nervous laughter and slight concern for my well-being.
However, I still start my story in light of this event, the function of which is simply to note that our bodies tune acutely to our minds and emotions. If we don't slow for a moment, if we are too enwrapt, too overwhelmed, chaos may ensue. Our bodies may overcome our rationality and even our sanity.
I'm not necessarily foreign to mental illness. If I think on it, I've encountered more friends as of late that have dealt with depression and anxiety than ever in my life before. These young adult years seem to put an incredible amount of pressure on persons and it shows in the
statistics. The eruption of mental issues is a serious and underrated crisis in this generation. That's saying something.
I had a posture of sympathy for this until recently. The friends I knew that had or have depression or anxiety shared with me what they had gone or are going through, and I understood as much as I could. But now I have empathy. I'll tell you why.
Weeks after this incident in my living room I found myself having that same feeling of breathless heart pounding. It came in moments of multiplicity - when there would be a lot going on at once and I couldn't carry it all. But there was one day where it all seemed to finally climax and collide.
It was throughout this day where I, again, felt my heart racing. Whether that was with anticipation or fear or lack of control, I can't say fully. A film project that I had worked on with my friends had come to its conclusion and I was to end my day with a pre-screening. I was running around a lot that day, doing many different things socially and academically. So, when it came the time for the screening, I was all aflutter with anticipation for the final product. Sitting in the small theater in our campus' production center, I didn't feel anxious. It was pure excitement and a bit of awe at the work that had been done. I was proud of my friends and so happy to see this video released to the world.
When we had finished the video, after watching it three times over, everyone in the room began to converse. Amass of people crowded together; so many people to talk to; so much congratulating. It was wonderful, of course, but my mind was abuzz. My heart was steady at this point, as far as I can remember.
I started talking to my friend Chris, who had a photography exhibition in our campus' art gallery at the time. After talking a good while, two of my other friends entered the conversation and we eventually decided to go over to the gallery afterwards to have a "private tour" of the artwork from the artist himself.
Though I had seen the artwork before, really contemplating the work alongside the person that made it was a lot to take in. Having the work focusing on a divorce and the effects therein was certainly heavy. Incredibly beautiful, but, indeed, extremely heavy. We stayed for over an hour, talking about each piece and the emotions that came along with it. My heart felt deeply, and I found myself, in the middle of it all, feeling lightheaded. I sat down secretly and controlled myself, breathed, and allowed my body to settle. I recognized then that my heart had been racing the entire time and I couldn't make it stop.
We stayed until almost one in the morning, moving from the artwork into friendly conversation. We laughed and enjoyed ourselves. I forgot about my heart.
Returning to my room, I realized how overwhelmed I really was. I moved from lightheadedness to dizziness. I needed to lie down. I was close to passing out again. I didn't. I decided to try and let sleep consume my mind, but I couldn't find it. I lie awake until late morning, only getting around three hours of sleep. My heart was still racing when I woke up.
The next day was marked by horrible fear. Fear that I couldn't shake. My heart still racing, lies started to swarm through my mind. I was overwhelmed with emotion I couldn't control. I was terrified of people. I was terrified of myself. I couldn't focus on any one thing. Midday I felt myself on the verge of tears. That I would look someone in the eye was risky. I could flood at any moment. I stole away into the library and released a few ugly cries, hid myself in the bathroom, cleaned myself up and returned to my study spot with friends only to realize I could not be around people. I had to be alone lest I breakdown in public.
My eyes pouring out, cheeks stained with tears, I walked to my room hiding my face. What was happening to me? I was so confused with myself. I knew every ounce of truth yet nothing seemed to drown out the lies in my head - that I wasn't good enough, that I was filthy, stupid, ugly, that I was worthless. But even in this, the truth still whispered in the back of my head. I found myself in my room, my body wracking, hands shaking, tears uncontrollably falling out of my face. The truth wasn't sticking.
I looked at my hands. My hands were empty because I was grasping nothing. Every unknown was blaring in my face. Every fear I had about the people in my life, of my own future, came crashing down on me in those two hours of pain and anguish. My body was reacting; I could do nothing. Any sense of rationality was gone. My bones quaked and I couldn't stop them. This was anxiety in its deepest state.
It was after this, after the slow down and the reconfiguration of myself through the truth of others being spoken into me, that I found myself again. Stillness came to me lying in the sunshine with a friend who graciously held me in my weakness.
I had an anxiety attack.
What did this mean for me? What was my life to look like now? My new found fear, on top of all the others, was that this would happen again. Was I to live like this every day? Maybe. I couldn't know. I could only rest as much as I possibly could and remember to breathe. To pray and to breathe.
I am writing all of this now in a posture of, like I said, empathy. I now know what it's like to be sitting inside of yourself, doubled-over, wailing in pain because your mind is in every direction, and at the same time, in no direction at all. There are voices in your head that you know you shouldn't listen to, but you simply can't help but receive them. They sink in whether or not the truth is written on your heart.
So what can I do? What can I say of this? I want answers, a solution, but.... I know there are wise roads to take in light of this. To go to counseling, to a psychologist, to Spiritual Direction. Wonderful, wise roads that
should absolutely be taken. But, however wise those roads may be, there are still some things in life, some battles, that cannot be fixed quickly. Sometimes you're going to have a bad day out of the blue and no amount of prescription drugs or talking can fix that.
I will say something now that I learned in Spiritual Direction that is straight truth. Truth that is a breath of fresh air even if you're drowning in the muck. I say this in repetition as if to myself, though it is true for all.
God is with me always. I mean
always. Even in the darkest of states. When I'm curled on the ground, fetal position, crying my eyes out - he is there. He is holding me there, in my sorrow and in my pain. He does not delight in my suffering, but suffers with me. He wept at the death of Lazarus, though he knew he'd resurrect him only moments later. Jesus sees the effects of the Fall and weeps. So he sees how my body is reacting, contracting, aching - and weeps. He understands the burdens I bare and asks to carry them. My empty hands are empty because I cannot hold the weight that I've been given. Like sand it falls through. He catches it. He wants it all. He wants me to relent.
There remain days when my heart still races out of nowhere; when I have to catch my breath all of a sudden. I am living in a body that moves towards Death, yet am filled with the Spirit of Life. So I must deal daily with the toils of my flesh and relent again. Though my anxious heart still beats out of time, my God remains constant in peace. I will relent again.
Press on Saints,
Olivia
"At the threshold of a new day stands the Lord who made it."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer
