Who Am I, God? - A Journey Book

Chapter 1

Breaking the human shell

The hardest lesson I’ve ever had to learn was to let go and let God. Since I was just a child, I had always been a chronic worrier. I can specifically remember sitting in front of my mirror, sobbing, because my pony-tail had a bump in it. Up until I was, probably 15, I wouldn’t leave the house unless my hair was completely smoothed back in a perfect pony. Ridiculous antics always made me upset as a child, and my parents just couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t make sense. I grew up in a household with a mommy and daddy who both loved me and loved the Lord. Still, I came out as an overwhelmingly anxious child.

As I entered high school, I was able to let go of some of my childhood anxieties, but I picked up some severe obsessive compulsive tics. Things went a little haywire for me in high school, and I suppose feeling out of control of my life made controlling whatever I could feel much more satisfying. I began counting my steps; I developed a routine for washing my hands. I couldn’t leave any room if drawers or closets were even remotely cracked open. I remember compulsively leaving and coming back to check if I had shut everything. I couldn’t even stand on the left side of people. I was overly organized, erratically clean, and I couldn’t bear to see something out of place. I was very high-strung and honestly, I’m shocked I even had friends. I required a lot of attention and cooperation in my antics.

Not only was I controlling of the things around me, but I became controlling of the people around me. I asked them to speak and act a certain way when I was around. At the time, I felt it was appropriate out of respect for me, but looking back I realize that it was completely unfair for me to ask them to be someone/something they’re not. I have to say that I apologize to these dear friends and I am forever grateful for their love and support for me despite my inability to love them well.

When I first wrote the introduction, I had just returned from my first and last semester in California. I was 18, young and naïve. I had good intentions, but there was so much more that I needed to learn. The majority of my experience in California was one panic attack after another. I would wake up every day and text my parents for fear that they would be dead. Each night before I went to sleep, I thought to myself, “This is the last time I’ll ever hear from my parents.” What a miserable existence. That’s all that I could think of while I was away.

Upon returning home, I faced a few more challenges, which get explained a little later, but through it all I couldn’t stop worrying. The next two years were filled with appointments, classes, relationships, vacations, jobs, and church engagements. I kept myself so incredibly busy that I had no time to worry. Sure, I had general anxiety about finishing an assignment on time or showing up to an appointment late, but I was too busy to worry about the deep seeded fears that were planted deep down in my heart.

I ran myself dizzy, always scheduling night shifts at work, or late nights out with friends, staying up into the wee hours of the morning to do homework for a full schedule of college summer classes. I was constantly on the go, running back and forth from school to church or to work. There was never a moment to simply pause, or let all of my emotions and fears and sorrows actually hit me.

I discuss in the next few chapters just what happened when I finally did allow those things to hit me, but for right now, I just want to take a moment to discuss the reality of anxiety. It ain’t no joke. It’s a haunting tyrant that plagues many people. Or is it? Anxiety, just like everything else, is an oppressing spirit that can come against anyone. This anxiousness is a combination of a fear and panic, a battle between the flesh and spirit. The Bible warns that our battle is not against flesh and blood, but against powers and principalities. However, we are given the promise that we have all authority and dominion over the Earth. Therefore, we are able to cast out oppressing spirits and have confidence that they must flee. However, I know how hard that is sometimes. When anxiety comes against you, it blends all of your emotions together into one and hits you hard. This makes it difficult to discover where the root of the problem may lie.

It wasn’t until the summer before my senior year of college that I actually had time to slow down and think about all the things that had been haunting me. But as soon as I would start to think of something that felt uncomfortable, I would go into instant panic. Then, rather than dealing with the panic, I would do something known as depersonalization. There are tons of definitions for this term, but basically, it’s a “bodily” response to anxiety. Rather than deal with the panic, your body turns to a coping mechanism which makes you feel like there’s a glass wall between you and life. It’s a horrible feeling, to be talking to someone but for it to feel like it was all a dream, like you weren’t connecting with anyone. That led me to feel incredibly alone, which only heightened the depression. The more I thought, the more worried I became. Do you see how the cycle works here?

Jesus tells us to cast our anxieties on Him. He tells us that He has a plan for our lives, that He loves us and that He will never leave nor forsake us. But what happens when our minds just can’t get wrapped around the truth? We know there’s a God that has orchestrated the whole universe to work together in perfect unity, yet we can’t trust Him with our own lives. We look into the future, sense the unknown, and then start to panic. We want answers, we want resolution and we sure as heck don’t want catastrophe to play a part in any of it.

So, we fear for our families, that tragedy will emerge as their destinies, and we fear for the crumbling world around us. We fear for our nation, that the perils of evil we see on our news channels will overtake the planet and there’s nothing that we can do to stop it. We fear for our friends, our pets, our siblings, but mostly, we fear for ourselves. We want to know what’s coming our way so we can prepare for it. As easy of a request as that might seem, it’s not our reality, and it doesn’t have to be for us to feel safe and secure. We don’t have to know what’s coming to trust that the Father will take care of us.

That’s why the Bible is so imperative to the believer. It offers stories of hope and assurance to its readers, wisdoms and truths that lead lovers into deeper places of curiosity and exploration of the truth. Cue one of our favorite heroes: Moses. Moses knew that he would be taken to the Promise Land, yet he still made mistakes along the way. He had rallied his people, prepared the Ten Commandments, and did everything the Lord called him to do. Until one day when he snapped and was cursed to never enter that special land. Moses had plenty of time to prepare himself for what he knew was the end. In that time, he could have managed handling situations more calmly, keeping in mind the end he was sure to see. However, he still messed it up for himself. So, all of that to say, does seeing the final result really cause things to work out for the better?

I bet Moses faced anxiety. I couldn’t imagine what he felt the first time he went to see Pharaoh. Fear—crippling and illegal in those who are alive in the perfect love of Christ, but that’s where I found myself throughout many years of my life. I know for some Christians it’s a controversial topic, but I was so bound with panic, that for me I found it necessary to talk to my doctor and discuss the options of whether or not to take an SSRI, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. Basically, a really fancy name for some anti-anxiety drugs. We decided that because of my symptoms, it was a good idea to try it. The day after I had taken the first pill, I went into crazy panic mode. I literally cried for three hours—nonstop. I was just so afraid of what people would think, what God thought, and afraid that I would make the wrong decision. My craziest, insensible thought: What happens if the chemistry in my brain changes and I don’t believe in God anymore?

I laugh just writing that now. After talking to my Mom and Dad and a few encouraging friends, I calmed myself down and realized that if I ever wanted to live a normal functioning life, I needed to take this medicine. There were obviously some deeply rooted issues in my life that I just couldn’t pinpoint because anxiety was masking right over them. However, after a week, even though I wasn’t any better, I decided to stop taking the medicine and, instead, naturally work through my issues with prayer and counseling. I had faith that this God, even though I didn’t fully trust Him, would help me because I was desperate.

Over and over again God has proven Himself faithful to me. It wasn’t like I faced a huge tragedy like many other people. I hit some bumps along the way, but generally things went pretty smoothly. I had a roof over my head, food in my belly, good health and a network of loving people. I looked around and saw that so many people had it much worse than me, so I felt there was no reason to feel upset or dissatisfied.

Now, to a point I agree that there are many others that have it worse than us, but that’s no reason to diminish our own feelings. We experience our emotions and thoughts for a reason. What may upset one person may not upset another, but that doesn’t make the person who is feeling sad, dumb, or “too sensitive” for having that emotion. Often times, we want to judge everyone else’s reactions to life according to ours. If we think that roller coasters aren’t...