Last night I got to talk to my doctor (via FaceTime of course) after an extremely tough mental weekend. For the past two weeks I have been living with the belief and expectation that this pandemic would pass and that two weeks of self isolation would be the fix to return to life as we knew it. I believed that to my core, and I stood on that belief to push me when doubt creeped in or anxiety began to overwhelm me. Two weeks.
After the news of the extended quarantine time was released I couldn’t take being strong anymore. I broke down and felt defeated by the realization that this pandemic had no consideration of not only who it affected, but how long it would continue to affect our world. In the end my fictional belief crumbled and I was left staring into the face of truth- two weeks now would be another month and my “normal” wasn’t returning any time soon. The normal I had created that was progressing me forward in so many ways. I was heartbroken, overwhelmed, and exhausted. Immediately I was taken back to a year ago, in March to be exact, when I had the worst anxiety attack of my life. I had finally reached the point of no longer being in control of my mind nor my body and I desperately needed help. March was when I began my therapy journey, and how ironic that after one whole year of positive progress, when I should be celebrating and proud, that I would find myself met again with the same crippling anxiety and fear. To describe it, I felt cornered, unable to move, with what felt like the weight of the world resting upon my chest. I felt grief that felt physically heavy as I began to mourn my old life that I so desperately was begging God to give me back. I felt anger and shame, all in one breath.
I’m thankful for a relationship with God, because I believe that always He is working for our benefit, regardless of what the physical looks like. I know and believe this truth now, but most importantly I stand on it, because I know it won’t ever crumble. I believe it’s the reason my mental health has never overcame my life by death, because the truth is that mental health issues are a real and vulnerable space for Satan to attack.
My doctor helped me understand this new normal is going to be difficult to manage and understand, but only at first. She reminded me I have the power and ability to create a new normal for myself in new ways that encourage me to overcome and continue to remain in control- a truth I needed reminding of. I shared something with my Instagram followers that said, “It’s a new week full of opportunities,” and in an instant my heart echoed the words back to me and reminded me it is a new week full of opportunities, and every day is a chance we get to try again.
I fall short at extending grace to myself on hard days, and confronting my feelings with truth over belief, because I am progressing every day, even if it looks different. Through this time of “distance learning,” a great way my mom put it, I am eager to see what God shares with me and shows me I’m capable of accomplishing.
Yesterday as it poured down with rain I allowed myself to continue to grieve and feel the heaviness of loss. I acknowledged the truth that I no longer am in control, in fact I never was, and now more than I ever I must lean on the one who is. Yesterday I allowed anxiety and sadness to lay with me, but today I asked and welcomed peace and joy to remain with me everywhere I step, and to fill me up when I rest. True, unwavering, and constant joy that goes by the name of Jesus.
All my love,
C.
* Side note.. The sun just began to shine through the largest cluster of cloud as I finished up this writing. God signs. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
